


Be Here Now

by verdensrommet



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Yoga, Artist Eliott, Baking, Coming Out, Conversations about Food, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gardening, Insomnia, Kissing, M/M, Meditation, Mental Health Issues, Miscommunication, Night walks, Paris (City), Pining, References to Depression, Stargazing, Yoga Instructor Eliott, Yoga student Lucas, parks, street art, yoga philosophy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:22:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 38,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22377892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verdensrommet/pseuds/verdensrommet
Summary: Lucas can't sleep. His doctor refuses to prescribe pills and suggests trying exercise. So he checks out a yoga studio in his neighbourhood instead, and gets to know Eliott, the beautiful and mysterious yoga teacher.
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 39
Kudos: 178





	1. Baby Steps

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published fic, and it's probably a mess. I don't know how regular I will be able update, but several parts of the story are already planned and some even finished.
> 
> I'm also on Tumblr, come ond say hi! @summersinpuglia

He had finally decided to see the doctor about his insomnia. But she did not prescribe the sleeping pills Lucas had hoped for and instead suggested talking to people he trusted about his worries. He lied and promised her he would consider it. She also recommended light exercise that regulated stress, like yoga or tai chi. When he looked up videos online, he found tai chi boring (and besides, people did it in the park – there was no way he would risk being seen doing tai chi at the Parc de Belleville by anyone he knew), but there were yoga videos of lean guys and girls doing crazy acrobatic but also elegant moves. He liked that it didn’t seem to matter if you were untrained and apparently lots of girls did it, too. So that would maybe give him the opportunity to find another fake girlfriend, since Chloé had dumped him because he had kept coming up with excuses why he could not go on dates with her. 

Not that being single was his main problem now. His inability to sleep drained him of all the energy he would have needed for dates, writing romantic texts and pretending to be happy. For now, even just school and friendships had become too much to keep up with. His room at the coloc was a mess and he had neglected his cleaning duties for the shared rooms three times in a row. The latest note on the message board they kept next to the fridge to keep track of their cleaning duties said: “Lucas: kitchen + bathroom + living room” Lisa: - Mika: - Manon: - “. Mika had even threatened to throw him out (“I swear to gay Jesus, you forget cleaning again and we’re going to find a new flatmate!”), but at least Lucas had paid the rent on time this month, so Mika was partly appeased. 

However, given Mika’s attitude – hard on the outside, but extremely soft and caring on the inside – this was the least reason why he had to worry. He really didn’t understand what was happening to him. After a rollercoaster of a year his life finally seemed to become more structured, he had a safe place to stay, a small but reliable circle of friends and was doing ok at school. So why did he lie awake every night, tossing and turning, without being able to stop his racing thoughts about his future, his parents, his friends? 

A quick Google maps search revealed that there was a yoga studio near his flat. They even had discounts for students. He called his dad and asked for money for the gym. His father supported the idea of Lucas doing gender-appropriate workouts. (To be fair, those were not his words, but Lucas knew that in his father’s eyes real men did weightlifting and bodybuilding, or at least played football. He had painfully endured two years in a football team during primary school and he had hated it.) There was no point explaining to him that he had decided to try out a low-impact sport that focused on mental balance and gentle exercise. He could as well have told him that he was gay. Okay, most probably he was gay – but that was none of his father’s business. 

A couple of days later Lucas entered the studio for the first time and found himself in a large, almost empty room with honey-coloured floorboards at the ground level of a backyard building, probably a former stonemason’s or carpenter’s workshop, now stylishly converted to accommodate people who wanted to shape their bodies and minds instead of wood or stone. He stopped at the reception desk, puzzled by the big shoe shelf filled with all kinds of winter boots. He didn’t know about the protocol - was he supposed to take off his shoes here?  
A young woman with wavy brown hair, probably just one or two year older than him, greeted him from behind the counter. 

“Hello, can I help you?”

“Hi, yeah, I’m Lucas, I wrote an e-mail to sign up for the beginners’ course.” 

“Oh, yes, I remember your e-mail! Welcome, Lucas. I’m Lucille, I teach the advanced Ashtanga class and I’m also responsible for bookings and the course schedule. If you need to get changed, you can use the dressing room at the back, but we ask all our yogis to take off their shoes at the entrance.” She pointed to the shelf Lucas had noticed some moments ago.

“As I mentioned in the e-mail, you can use our mats and blocks for the lesson – you will find them in a shelf in the changing room. Just grab a mat, a block and maybe also a blanket for the relaxation at the end and bring it back to the shelf after the lesson.”

“Cool, thank you.”

“You’ve still got fifteen minutes before Eliott starts the lesson, so you can get changed, find a cozy spot in the room and grab a tea. Oh, and just a piece of advice if – have you done yoga before? –“ she paused and looked at him expectantly. 

Lucas shook his head and smiled, a little embarrassed. “No, it’s my first lesson today.”

“All right, then be gentle to your body – the course started about a month ago, so Eliott might pick up speed and some things can be hard at the beginning. Just do what feels comfortable. You can pay on a day-to-day basis but we offer a discount if you pay for ten lessons in advance. The first lesson is free, though.” She smiled and nodded at him in an encouraging way while he was trying to process and remember all the information she had provided.

The changing room was all genders and for a moment he contemplated bragging about it to his friends later, but there was a risk that Basile would want to accompany him to the lessons just to take a look at girls in their underwear. So he would probably just keep it to himself. He was the only male person in the room, but the women, mostly in their twenties and thirties, did not seem particularly phased by his presence and greeted him in a friendly way.

At least the teacher is a guy, Lucas thought. He changed into his jogging pants and swore he would put them on at home before coming to the studio the next time, since he wore them 90% of the time anyway and changing into a pair of jeans before leaving the house seemed pointless by now. Most of the girls in the course just shrugged off their winter jackets and were good to go, already dressed in comfy tracksuit bottoms or leggings and oversized t-shirts or hoodies. 

He found the shelf with the yoga mats, picked one of them as well as a grey woollen plaid and settled into a spot in the right corner of the room, not too close to the front, where a mat and a burning candle were already indicating the teacher’s spot.  
Imitating the other participants, he rolled out his mat, fetched a cup of tea from the counter and then stretched out on the thin cushion, elbows propped up, waiting for the lesson to begin. The room smelled nice and calming, of oiled wood, faint incense and ayurvedic tea.

When Eliott entered the room, the atmosphere changed immediately. Lucas noticed that a few of the girls, who had been chilling out on their mats, now sat up and straightened themselves, adjusting their clothes or ponytails. He couldn’t see him very clearly because it was quite dark in the room, but he was able make out a tall, slim silhouette and a messy tangle of brown hair. His voice was soft as he greeted everyone with a quiet “Welcome”. 

They began the lesson lying on their backs, doing a breathing exercise that Lucas found hard to focus on. Constantly, his mind jumped to school, his father, his flatmates, or things that he needed to remember. Although Eliott’s instructions gently guided them back to focus on their breath by telling them to let their thoughts pass like clouds, to quietly observe them, but not follow them, Lucas’ brain was far too busy and didn’t want to let go. 

As he breathed in, slowly counting to five, he felt his ribcage expand and realized how much tension had built up in himself. He exhaled – 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 – trying to visualize the worries he was getting rid of, as Eliott had asked them to. 

Eighty minutes later he felt weirdly exhausted. He had not really sweated much, but holding some of the poses required a lot more strength than he had expected. During the final relaxation, when Eliott asked them to focus on a specific part of the body and to relax it consciously, starting with the toes and ending with the head (how on earth was it possible to relax the brain?), he became aware that he had not felt his body like this in a very long time. At the very end, when everything and everyone was still, apart from very quiet meditation music that was playing in the background, he closed his eyes and could very well imagine sleeping better if he did this more regularly.

While the others were rolling up their mats and leaving the room, Lucas decided to hang behind and ask Eliott if he could recommend some postures that would maybe help him sleep.  
Eliott adjusted the dimmable lights to a brighter setting when he saw that there was somebody that wanted to talk to him. He smiled at Lucas, who for the first time now was able to see the features of Eliott’s face and his grey-blue eyes. Suddenly he felt slightly shy, intimidated by the other man’s – boy’s really, because Eliott did not look much older than 21 or 22 - beauty. 

“Uh, hi, I’m new.” 

“Hi, my name is Eliott. Great to have you join the class, it’s always nice to have some male company. Hope you liked the lesson today?”

“Oh, yeah, I really enjoyed it - although I’m new to yoga, so I’m not that graceful.”

Eliott smiled at him. “Oh, don’t worry, when I did yoga for the first time, I felt like the clumsiest person in the world. And you know, you shouldn’t want to do yoga to look graceful – that way you’ll never really feel the full effect of what it can do for you.”

“Yeah, no, I’m not here because I want to look cool, although the Instagram accounts of some yoga teachers convinced me to come here, to be honest.” Lucas smirked. 

“Oh, since we started an Instagram account, this has for sure brought us a lot of new customers,” Eliott grinned. 

“I guess so if it’s you in the pictures.” He couldn’t believe he had really said that and wanted to die on the spot. “Shut up, Lucas,” he thought and cringed internally at his lame attempts of flirting, but Eliott just huffed out a laugh and seemed a bit flustered, as if he wasn’t used to compliments, something Lucas found strange but oddly charming. 

“Um, sorry, that was a stupid thing to say. But actually I wanted to ask you something and it’s not about Instagram poses. I’m here because my doctor thought yoga could help me sleep better. I was very skeptical at first, but I really liked it today, moving in all these weird ways. That’s what I wanted to ask. Do you maybe have any suggestions for some postures or exercises that could help me fall asleep?”  
“Weird, huh? Weird is good, isn’t it?” Eliott smiled at him, and god, he looked really cute when he did that. “So you’ve got problems falling asleep? That’s shit. The good news is that yoga can really help a lot with it, though I’m only speaking about my own experiences here.”

Lucas looked at Eliott, this beautiful, fit man – he had never imagined that someone who looked like that would have sleeping problems. But it was probably stupid of him to assume that navigating life as a beautiful person would come without the struggles of average-looking people.

“OK, so basically you can do most of the exercises we’ve done today, but I don’t recommend quick flows or too many postures standing up with your head bent down. What I find really calming is child’s pose. Let me show it to you.”

He walked back to his mat that was still spread out on the floor, knelt down and folded himself into a bundle, arms first stretched out in front of him, which he then brought next to his folded body, palms pointing upwards. 

He turned his head to where Lucas was standing. “I try to stay here for a while, forehead down on the mat. If your head doesn’t touch the mat or if it’s straining your neck, just rest it on a folded blanket or even a book. You’ll get there eventually, but don’t force it. 

“The most important thing here is your breath. You should breath into your belly and your flanks, not just into your breast. I’m going to show you how it is done and if you want to, you can put your hands on my waist – it’s easier to understand it when you can feel it.”

Lucas blushed – thank God Eliott couldn’t see it - but obliged. It felt intimate. Under his fingers Eliott’s body expanded and contracted with each slow deep breath. He doubted he would ever be able to let a stranger touch him like that, just for the sake of instruction, without dying of embarrassment. Before he got too self-conscious he took his hands away, stating that he had felt the breath very clearly.  
“If you’re unsure we can switch and you can try it.”

“No, I’m fine, I know how to do it now. But thanks a lot for showing me!”

“Oh, no problem at all! So what do you think? Will you come again next week for weird poses?” 

“Definitely! It’d be such a pity to waste the opportunity of learning how to do a head stand for cool Instagram posts.”

“Great, then see you next time.”

“See you next time, Eliott.”

That night he lay on the floor next to his bed curled up like a fetus and breathed into his sides, imagining somebody (who was he kidding? A very handsome yoga instructor with a beautiful smile and messy hair) had gently placed their hands on his flanks and cupped them, softly, like a blanket that kept him warm but didn’t obstruct his ability to breathe and move.


	2. Night Walks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last additions and editing took longer than I thought - sorry! The chapter is also kind of messy, but I wanted to get it out there now.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr, too. @summersinpuglia

Despite practising the calming posture Eliott had shown him a few weeks ago, Lucas still had problems falling asleep. When his thoughts wouldn’t stop and staying still became unbearable, when the probability of going to sleep in the next hour neared zero, he got out of bed, pulled on tracksuit bottoms and a hoodie and walked. In the first nights he stayed in the vicinity of the apartment, but soon started to weave his way through the adjacent neighbourhoods. After a particularly shitty party he even lied to the others about having to go to catch the metro and instead of taking it back home he walked. Two hours in the freezing cold, through quiet residential areas, along big avenues, through parks. 

He got to know a different city. The streets felt so much bigger when there were no crowds, and he was surprised how many different sounds he was able to distinguish now when the constant buzz of the traffic was gone. A cat meowing, a piano tune slipping through an open window, drunken people laughing on the opposite bank of the Seine. He felt free, although his thoughts and worries had time and space to roam, but somehow they bothered him less when he was walking than when he kept tossing around in his bed and fear and uncertainty were creeping up on him. When he came home, he shivered for hours but his mind was finally calm and he fell asleep for three or four dreamless hours.

His nightly roamings of the city soon became a habit, and although he now got at least a few hours of sleep on most nights, he was still unbearably tired at school too often, could not focus on the lesson and dozed off in Philosophy, then woke up suddenly and confused because Yann had poked him or the teacher had asked something. His friends and teachers expressed their worry about him, which made him mad. Wasn’t it obvious and natural that he was stressed by the upcoming bac and the pressure of having to decide what to do after school? Final exams were due in less than six months and his grades in Philosophy, Maths and German were not really promising. 

He could not focus on studying and keeping up with the assignments. Whenever he picked up a book or started to watch an instructional video, he became bored and distracted. What was to become of him anyway? He would not get into one of the prestigious universities (his father seemed to expect no less, of course) and he felt way too young to make a decision that would have such a big impact on his future. 

He just wanted to be left alone. Not even going out was fun anymore. The last time they had gone to a party he had snapped at Basile and Arthur after a couple of too many beers because he could not stand Basile’s pathetic attempts at flirting with girls and Arthur’s endless patience and support, and so he had returned home early, after halfheartedly flirting and making out with a girl. The boys had not asked him to hang out with them since. 

Last weekend Mika had tried to drag him and Lisa along to a gay party, and although he had been secretly tempted, he was too afraid that pictures of the night might end up on Instagram. But painful, burning envy filled him when he watched their stories that night because everyone seemed to enjoy themselves so much. There was nothing he could do, though. His sexuality was nobody’s business, as he had decided to stay in the closet at least until school was over and he could reinvent himself in a new city. 

For now, he spent the weekends and evenings wrapped up in a plaid on the couch and watched TV, often eating a bag of nachos for dinner. He only left the apartment for school, grocery shopping and walks these days. He excused his state of isolation with the terrible winter weather. Slushy snow and strong winds made being outside very uncomfortable after all. The yoga class on Tuesdays became the highlight of his week. It was the only activity he never missed, no matter how tired or exhausted he was. 

The next time he went there, Eliott made them do ridiculous things. 

“I usually wait a few weeks with these poses, so I don’t scare people away. But you seem open to weird stuff.” 

Lucas felt Eliott standing next to him while everyone in the class was bent over in seated forward fold. 

“Just don’t take yourself too seriously. You’re allowed to laugh in yoga and today I want you to be open and experiment with the way your body moves. Be curious like children, don’t overthink. Have fun.” 

They were supposed to stick out their tongues and make wild animal sounds breathing out, move like monkeys and shake their arms so much that they hit their own butts. It was embarrassing as hell, Lucas thought, but at the same time liberating. Giggles started to erupt quite soon from everywhere in the room. 

After the lesson, Lucas put his mat back on the shelf, feeling more light-hearted than he had felt in a long time. Everyone had smiled at each other at the end of the lesson, and even though he hadn’t talked much to the other students yet, he felt connected to them somehow. How simple it seemed to be for Eliott to make them all feel at ease! Lucas purposely took his time to get dressed when the other students hurried home. Eventually he was the only person in the changing room. He heard the bell above the door ring, indicating that someone left while he was putting on his hoodie. He had probably been too slow. Disappointment welled up in him because he didn’t get to say goodbye to Eliott in person. But just as he was wrapping his scarf around his neck and simultaneously bending down to pick up his backpack, Eliott entered the changing room, balancing a couple of yoga blocks in his arms. 

“Oh, hi Lucas, I wasn’t aware someone was still here. I hope I haven’t spooked you! Did you try out the breathing exercise I showed you?” 

“Oh, yeah. It’s oddly calming, though once my flatmate caught me doing it and thought I was having a panic attack. He slightly freaked out.”

Eliott chuckled and Lucas noticed how the other boy’s eyes crinkled when he laughed. He radiated warmth and kindness. 

“It’s best to warn the people you live with when you do yoga, so you’re not interrupted. Besides, nobody expects you to answer any questions or the doorbell during your practice if they know.”

“Yeah, I’m putting the ‘do not disturb’-sign on my door now.”

“How’s sleeping?”

“It’s still pretty bad, but there’s some progress. I’ve read that light exercise helps and now I’m just going out for a walk when I don’t get tired and I think the yoga and the walking are starting to work. Last night I fell asleep at one in the morning and woke up at six, which is a major improvement. In fact, I’m going for my evening walk right now.”

“That’s brilliant!” Eliott looked happy. “Actually, a walk would be good for me as well. Would you mind if I joined you? I just have to put the blocks away, then I’m good to go.”

“Not at all!”

They left the studio together and made their way across the courtyard to the street. 

Eliott turned to face him and asked: “So where do you want to walk?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe towards Canal St. Martin?”

“Yeah, sure! I can also take the metro from there.”

It was a cold night, but at least it was dry. They walked at a slow pace, and as they approached Place de la Bastille, they were almost continuously overtaken by impatient people hurrying towards their trains and buses home and throwing annoyed glances at the two boys walking side by side that were taking up too much space on the sidewalk.

But Lucas didn’t notice them. He felt as if he and Eliott were detached from the other people and existed in a different sphere in which time was irrelevant and being present in the moment was everything.

“So, Eliott, can I ask you something?

“Sure.”

“Are you a full-time yoga teacher or do you do something else, too?”

“Well, my full-time occupation is that I study illustration. Yoga is just a part-time job.”

“Illustration? So you draw comics or graphic novels?”

“Yeah, among other things. I’d love to earn money by doing that one day. Though I’ll probably end up making illustrations for anatomy books or Ikea manuals.” He raised his eyebrows and smiled faintly.  
“And how did you end up being a yoga teacher? It’s not the typical student job.”

“True. I discovered yoga when I was about 16 – I had a difficult time coping with stress and a PE teacher suggested it. So I took a couple of lessons together with a group of middle aged women but was quite intrigued by the effect yoga had on myself. Then I became a bit obsessed with it for a time and after my bac I decided to become a certified teacher, which took six months. It’s been my job for two years now.”

“So you’re like 21 now?” 

“Just turned 22. How old are you?”

“18. Final year of lycée. I don’t have a clue what I’ll be doing afterwards, to be honest.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s so stressful, and everybody asks or talks about it.”

“Oh God, don’t get me started on that. How did you find out what you wanted to do?”

“That was actually really easy. Drawing and painting are the only things I’m good at. Apart from being a yoga instructor, maybe, but I don’t think I could do that as a full-time job. Too much talking.”

They had reached the small marina at the canal and stopped to look across the water. The golden streetlights illuminating the river walks on both banks flickered faintly in the cold air. It was much quieter here.

“I like this place a lot! I always imagine it is part of a larger harbour and Paris is actually a city by the sea,” Lucas said.

“It’s my biggest regret! Not living in a city by the sea.”

“So are you from Paris?”

“I grew up in Marseille, but we moved here when I was 12. I’m almost a true Parisian.” He chuckled and turned towards Lucas. “What about you?”

“We’ve always lived here. I love Paris, but I don’t know, I would really like to go somewhere else when I start university. Have a fresh start.”

Eliott nodded. “I can understand that. Sometimes it’s good to be in a place where nobody knows you. You get to try out being a different person with zero expectations how you should be or act.”

“Exactly. I don’t understand why my classmates say it’s scary to move away. I think it could be freeing.”

“On the other hand, though, it can also be lonely.”

“But isn’t that normal? To be lonely, I mean. Most people I know are lonely.”

“Really?”

“Sure, most of them have friends, but in the end don’t you always make the important decisions about your life on your own? I think very few people actually have friends that really stay by their side when they go through rough phases.”

“Yeah, I agree. But that doesn’t mean we should give up on finding them. And sometimes we underestimate the people in our lives. They would be there for us if we only let them in on our worries.”

Lucas was quiet for a moment because Eliott’s remark reminded him of Yann and his carefully voiced concerns, the worried glances he tried to hide from Lucas but which he had seen several times nevertheless. Maybe Eliott had a point there, and he needed to talk to Yann soon.

“That’s good advice. Turns out, you're not just a good yoga teacher, you also do counselling!”

“Ha, might as well pass something I learned in those expensive sessions on.” Eliott seemed to flinch, and though it was dark, Lucas thought he saw a slightly annoyed expression passing over Eliott’s face.

“You’ve done counselling training, too? Are you a fifty-year-old trapped inside a young man’s body?”

Eliott coughed, clearly embarrassed. “Um, not exactly, but let’s say I’ve had the opportunity to pick up on different counselling methods.” 

He pulled out his phone to check the time. 

“Shit, it’s later than I thought. I was supposed to be meeting friends for dinner for half an hour now. I’m sorry, but it looks like I’ve got to run.” 

Lucas was a bit disappointed that their walk ended so abruptly, but Eliott had a good reason to dash, and he should get home and try to get some studying done. It was getting cold anyway.

“Sure, don’t worry. Have a nice evening.”

“You too! Good night, Lucas.”

“Good night, Eliott. See you next week.”

"See you," Eliott shouted, already running towards the closest metro station.


	3. Parisian Skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas talks to Yann, and goes for another walk with Eliott.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love l'Institut du Monde Arabe, so I had to make it appear in the story - it's such a beautiful modern building!  
> The places they talk about all exist. I haven't been to all of these places, but a few - if you want to know more, tell me in the comments. And yes, there really is a "Hétéro classique" burger at Tata Burger. 
> 
> The chapter is unbeta-ed and it's late, but I wanted to upload it because I won't have much time the next days.
> 
> Please leave some comments, or come and talk to me about the fic at @summersinpuglia on Tumblr!

It had become February and maybe it was due to global warming, maybe only due to an unusually mild spell of weather, but winter did not sting anymore. The days were getting longer and Lucas woke up to spectacular technicolor sunrises now. When he walked home from school these days, people were sometimes sipping their drinks in front of the cafés with their faces tilted upwards to enjoy the first warming sunlight of the year instead of huddling under blankets and terrace heaters. But the nights were still freezing.

Yann suggested hanging out after school again and after having found an excuse for not meeting up with him alone several times, Lucas finally agreed. They walked to a small bistro close to the Marché d’Aligre and sat down side by side at a small, rickety table in the sun that faced the small square. Yann ordered two cafés gourmands and Lucas turned to face him, surprised. 

“Café gourmand? Is there a special occasion?”

“Yes. My best friend finally agreed to go for a cup of coffee with me and did not come up with a stupid excuse.”

Lucas felt bad and looked down at the ground, where fat, croissant-fed sparrows were picking up the crumbs previous guests had scattered around the table. “Sorry I’ve been so annoying lately,” he apologised. 

“I was hoping you’d tell me what was up with you.” 

Lucas breathed in deeply. 

”OK, well - I’ve been unable to sleep for a while and the exams are stressing me out. I also can’t figure out what to do with my life after the bac while everyone else seems to have everything mapped out. On top of that, Mika has threatened to throw me out of the colloc, though I don’t think he really means it… and my mum is still not doing great but I haven’t managed to visit her in two months.” 

Yann nodded sympathetically. “It’s a lot of shit you have to put up with. So are you doing anything against your insomnia?”

“I’m trying to get more exercise. And don’t laugh and maybe don’t tell Basile, but I’ve also started meditating. According to my doctor, talking to people also helps, so I thought I might try and explain things to you. I owed you an apology anyway.”

Yann raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me, but who are you and what have you done to my best friend?”

Lucas shrugged and chuckled, slightly embarrassed. The waiter arriving with their plates of profiteroles was a welcome distraction.

“No, it’s cool that you’re finally telling me, mec, especially if it makes you feel better. Is there anything I can do?”

Lucas heart swelled. Yann was still there for him, accepting his apology, and was nothing but understanding. Eliott had been right. It did feel good to open up to Yann – but still, he was not ready to talk about the biggest issue remaining. Maybe it had a lot to do with the slightly homophobic jokes he had heard from the boys so often (to be fair he had joined in more than once, with a nauseous feeling in his stomach), but also with the reasons he had had for not stopping Emma and Yann from breaking up two years ago. Maybe when he moved to a different city, he would finally be able to tell him that he liked boys, always had.

“Lucas?” Yann looked at him intently, still waiting for an answer.

“Sorry – no, I don’t think there’s anything you can do. But thanks for listening, I think it might actually help.”

“Any time,” Yann mumbled while he was shoving a spoon loaded with profiteroles, cream and chocolate sauce into his mouth.

“What? Don’t speak with your mouth full!”

“Shut up! I was offering that I would be listening if you needed someone to talk, but I guess I’ve changed my mind now.”

Lucas briefly considered flicking some whipped cream at Yann, but then only rolled his eyes instead. “Typical! He listens once and then thinks he can get away with bad manners.”

Yann stuck out his tongue. “Excuse me, since when do you care about good manners? Isn’t it you who shoves a burger in his mouth in two bites and talks while spitting pickles and burger sauce all over the table?”

Lucas was appalled. He straightened himself and with a dignified air replied: “Only when the burgers are shit. Give me a decent burger and I’ll shut up. At least until I’ve had a few bites.”

Yann tried to remain serious but couldn’t help giggling, and Lucas joined in. Yann had once said that the moment Lucas started to laugh properly it was over for him because his laugh was so contagious. So soon they were both laughing out loud, wiping tears from their eyes. The situation wasn’t that funny, to be honest, but realizing that nothing had changed between them was such a huge relief that Lucas felt slightly shaky.

When they had regained their breath, Yann turned to Lucas, voice warm and full of compassion: “I’m glad you talked to me, Lucas.”

“You know, I was super annoyed by all of you having fun and enjoying yourselves while my life sucks. Guess I was envious.” 

“It’s OK not wanting to party when you’re not well. But sometimes it can be a distraction.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it can help. I was probably so miserable I didn’t realize that anymore.”

Yann lightly squeezed Lucas’ arm and smiled at him. 

“I thought it was our fault you didn’t want to hang out with us. Speaking of which – maybe talk to Basile and Arthur? Basile was pretty annoyed about your behaviour at Emma’s party, and rightfully so. But he’s got over it and now worries he did something wrong.” 

“I will do that. Maybe you can all come over for some games on Saturday?”

“Yeah, sure! I’ll bring the weed and we can order pizza from that small place across the street.”

“That sounds great! Is everything alright with you, though Yann?”

“Why? Do I seem not OK to you?”

“No, absolutely not, but I’ve just realized how little I’ve asked you about what has been going on in your life recently.”

“Thanks for asking. I’m OK. But, well, if we’re honest today…” He sighed and rubbed his cheek with his palm. “Emma has been hanging around a lot with some guy and according to Daphné it’s serious. I didn’t think I’d mind so much but I actually think I do.”

“Yann, I’m sorry. That sucks.”

Lucas felt guilty. Not just about having played a role in breaking them up, but mainly because he had only been caring about himself these past months and had been too caught up in his own shit that he had not noticed his friend having a hard time, too.

“It’s alright, Frérot. I guess I just need some distraction.” He winked at Lucas. “Focus on school for a change. By the way – I’m afraid it’s time for me to go home. I’ve got a test tomorrow and need to cram.” 

Lucas walked home, cleaned the bathroom (he had managed to fulfil his cleaning duties the past three weeks, and Manon had erased the tasks behind his name on the blackboard, a feat he hadn’t achieved before and therefore was quite proud of himself) and then distracted himself from waiting for Eliott’s reply by doing his homework. He had texted him earlier that he was planning to walk along the Seine tomorrow night and if he wanted to join. Finally, Eliott replied that he would be in Montparnasse the next day and that they could meet at the Institut du Monde Arabe. It was one of Lucas’ favourite modern buildings in Paris. They had visited it with school once, and Lucas had been fascinated by the translucent façade that unveiled all these little details when one came nearer, the star patterns everywhere, the interesting exhibitions at the museum, the laid-back atmosphere of the tea house, the scent of mint and green tea lingering in the air. 

I’ll wait on the terrace, Eliott had texted him.

The next day, Lucas arrived at the Institut du Monde Arabe when the sun was just starting to disappear behind the higher buildings. He knew that from the ninth floor it would be visible a bit longer.

He found Eliott on the terrace, elbows propped up on the railing, headphones on and staring across the river towards the island, the only person there on his own, surrounded by chatty tourists taking pictures of each other. 

When Lucas joined Eliott at the railing, he turned towards him with a smile and took off his headphones.

“It’s my favourite view here, and I always dream about living on the island one day. It’s like a little village in this big city. Have you been there?”

“Yeah, it’s where Mika drags all his visitors from outside the city, and I’ve come along a few times. We always go to Pylones, get some overpriced ice-cream no matter how freezing it is, visit the mask shop and take pictures on one of the bridges”.

“Oh, right, I forgot about the mask shop! It’s funny it has been existing for so long. I’ve never actually witnessed somebody buying a mask. But it’s always full of tourists.”

They laughed, then got silent for a few moments as the colours of the sky became more intense with every moment now.

“It’s funny what a difference a little more sunlight makes. I feel like winter’s coming to an end, don’t you think so, too?” Lucas said.

“Strange to think that in two months the trees will be green again, it’s something that always surprises me.”

“Yeah. And in four months the days are going to seem endless and everyone will complain about the heat and the tourists.”

“That’s something that depresses me.”

“Heat and tourists?”

“No, that the seasons change every year and that I can never stop it. Sometimes I would love to prolong summer for another two months, it feels like it’s never enough.” Eliott sighed.

“You do? I think it’s lovely that there are seasons.“

“Don’t you find it sad when you have to put on your warm jacket in October for the first time and know that from now on it will be dark when you get up and dark when you come home from school?”

“No, I think I’ve always loved autumn and winter. I don’t really mind the dark, I think. And there is snow to brighten up the mood!”

Eliott snorted. “Yeah, exactly, the famous Parisian snow.”

“Okay, I admit that snow here sucks, but I don’t know, the park in Versailles is pretty stunning all covered in snow!”

“Wow, so you go on trips to Versailles? Fancy!” 

“Only with visitors,” Lucas defended himself.

“I’m joking, Versailles is pretty great! I love the farm the queen had built. Have you been there?”

“No, actually not.”

“It’s great, it looks like a quaint little village from a children’s book, but the rooms are really luxurious inside.”

“Okay, next time I’m going on a fancy trip I’ll take you with me and you can show me.”

“It’s a date!” Eliott’s stare was intense, but he wiggled his eyebrows and made Lucas laugh.

Lucas didn’t know what to reply and pushed himself away from the railing. He started to walk towards the stairs, and turning to Eliott said: “Come on, let’s go – I wanted to go for a walk, not stay glued to the railing for hours talking about Versailles.”

When they left the building, they walked westwards along the river. The sky was clear again and if it hadn’t been for the infamous light pollution in Paris, one would have been able to see all the constellations visible in the northern hemisphere at this time of year. The sun had disappeared behind the horizon, and only a sliver of light remained in the west, while the rest of the sky was tinted a dark sapphire blue. 

Lucas later couldn’t remember who had brought up the topic, but they found themselves discussing their favourite places to eat. 

“There’s this amazing little bakery in Batignolles. They have huge, soft Moroccan breadrolls filled with mayonnaise and smoked salmon that only cost 3 euros. Yann and I sometimes make a detour on our way home from school just to go there.”

Eliott went into raptures about Pink Mamma. According to him, it was the cutest place with pastel-coloured walls, all decorated with plants and huge jars containing pickles and preserved fruit. “The pizza is amazing. I haven’t eaten a better one in France.” 

“Do you like burgers? My flatmate Mika went to Tata Burger for his birthday and it was amazing!” Lucas, however, avoided also telling Eliott about his embarrassment when he had ordered a burger called “The Straight Classic” and the waiter had replied with “Don’t we all want one?” and a wink. 

“Oh, if you like fast food, you need to go to the food stall at Point Éphémère! Have you been there? It’s such a cool place! You can drink a beer sitting next to the canal and they have African street food. Super greasy and unhealthy, but absolutely delicious. I need to take you there when it’s warmer.”

Lucas confessed his love for Bouillon Chartier. It was crowded, full of tourists and loud, and sure, the food was mediocre, but it was cheap and you could still go there for a special occasion because it was so beautiful and the waiters took their job extremely seriously. 

“Yes, I can remember! I went there with my grandmother frequently because it reminded her of her childhood. She often ate there with her family on Sundays. It’s been around forever.” He paused for a short while, taking a photo of Lucas with the sparkling Eiffel Tower in the background, and then picked up the conversation again. 

“It's strange, I haven’t gone out for lunch on Sundays for ages. I’m more into brunch these days. By the way, last week a friend from art school dragged me along to a boutique in SoPi. They have a studio in the basement and he is producing music with the owner of the boutique. On Sundays they do a fantastic brunch and you eat in the shop next to the cool, custom-made clothes.” 

Lucas groaned. “God, your choice of restaurants just confirms my suspicion. You’re such a hipster.”

“And you’re clearly not afraid of admitting to like mainstream.”

“Should I?”

“No, it’s actually pretty cool. Everyone so desperately tries to be different and show refined taste these days. It’s getting boring sometimes.”

“Said absolutely no hipster ever.”

“Ha, you said I was a hipster. I disagree,” Eliott smirked.

They had walked along the river for an hour before they turned north across the bridge and got a train at Trocadéro. Talking about food had made them so hungry that they agreed to have falafel for dinner in Marais, although it was touristy, but Lucas confessed that he liked it there because the tourists’ enthusiasm about a simple flatbread filled with coleslaw, fried chickpeas and tahini was contagious. The location was also convenient for them both. Lucas would be able to walk home from there and Eliott’s apartment was just a short metro ride away. 

Lucas wanted to get a sandwich and eat it in the street but Eliott insisted they sat down at a table for a proper dinner. The waitress at Chez Hannah led them to a small table crammed between a loud German hen party of eight and an American couple that seemed to have run out of topics to talk about on their “Europe in 30 days”-trip. At least that was what Lucas assumed from the travel guide the man was reading while his girlfriend was staring into her phone and absentmindedly picking salad off the plate in front of her. The German women, who wore glittering pink Eiffel towers on their heads, greedily started to ogle Eliott the moment they sat down at the table. “Fuck off and leave him alone,” Lucas thought jealously. Fortunately for Lucas, the women didn’t speak any French and he started to translate to Eliott what they were saying. Eliott acted as if he didn’t understand English, even when they asked him if he could recommend a club for partying later. His eyes quietly urged Lucas to do the same, who was intrigued and pretended to talk to Eliott about things he showed him on his phone while eavesdropping. “They are taking guesses that you’re either a model or an actor. And the bride-to-be would very much be willing to call off her wedding if she could get you to come along to her hotel tonight.” 

“Shut up,” Eliott said to him, knitting his eyebrows. “I’m getting embarrassed.” 

“Oh, wait, but it gets better. Her friend just said that she would sacrifice herself and flirt with the little one that looks like a hedgehog, so the bride could hang out with you. WTF, little hedgehog? Sacrifice herself? I know I’m not exactly a supermodel, but that’s harsh.” 

“That’s ridiculous and utter bullshit.” Eliott crossed his arms and shot an angry look at them. Lucas snapped his fingers in front of him. 

“Hey, don’t look at them, they’ll get suspicious. They’ve already said that they find it weird we don’t speak English and have started to drag the French school system.” 

“Clearly the German school system doesn’t teach them manners.”

“And no appreciation for small French guys.”

“Clearly not. But well, what can you expect from grown women wearing pink plastic Eiffel Towers on their heads?”

“This shows they don’t have taste at all. OK, maybe a little taste. They noticed you.”

“Would you stop, please?”

“Why?”

“As I said before, hearing other people talk about my looks makes me embarrassed.”

Their plates arrived, heaped with falafel, hummus, salad and fried eggplants and Eliott made a point of discussing the different components of their meal to distract Lucas from the previous topic of their conversation. The German women finally left, staring at Eliott yearningly and not even trying to hide it. Lucas relaxed again, and they finished their meal chatting about the yoga studio and Eliott’s plans for the summer to go teach at retreats as they were usually paid better and he would get to travel for free. After dinner, they walked to the metro station.

“They were right about one thing, though,” Eliott said, when they said goodbye at the entrance to the metro.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about your looks?”

“No, that’s not it. But it’s true that you look like a hedgehog.” Eliott smiled, stretched out a hand and briefly touched Lucas’ hair before he turned and ran down the stairs to catch his train.


	4. Lucille

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long even though it is relatively short - I had it planned out, but then the COVID-19 madness got in the way of finishing it... I'm well and will spend a lot of time at home in the next weeks, with time to kill, so I hope to post the next update sooner!  
> XOXO
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr @summersinpuglia

On Saturday night Yann, Basile, Arthur and Lucas were crammed together on the sofa at the colloc, fighting over controllers and pizza boxes. Lucas had apologized to Arthur and Basile when they had arrived, and had repeated what he had already told Yann (minus the meditation part). Basile hugged him tightly and said, it’s alright, frérot, just remember we’re always here for you!” and Arthur had - probably not so jokingly - suggested smoking weed when he couldn’t sleep. And with that, everything seemed to be back to normal. 

Lisa threw them annoyed looks every time she walked through the living-room to get something from the kitchen. Over the course of the evening Lucas took mental notes of her loot: a hot water bottle, a tub of ice-cream, a cup of tea, a bottle of coke, a bag of nachos. Basile repeatedly invited her to join them, but she just rolled her eyes and said that she was still binging some obscure anime series from the 90s whose name Lucas never remembered long enough. 

When Lucas had first met Lisa, he had thought she was shy, but he was quite sure now that she just was extremely picky about the people she interacted with. She barely tolerated Lucas on the couch when she watched TV, but playing video games with the gang on a Saturday night was clearly infra dig for her. So the boys stayed among themselves, since Mika and Manon had gone to a party of Mika’s colleagues. 

Lucas had missed this. It was just le gang spending time together, shouting, eating greasy pizza until they felt sick and dragging each other over their gaming skills, and a lot of people would certainly have declared that a very sad and geeky Saturday night – but he would never have traded it in for a cool party. Yeah, he probably was a bit basic, but that had never been a problem before. He just hoped a certain yoga teacher wouldn’t get bored of hanging out with him. 

When he went to the bathroom, he texted Eliott what he would be doing the next day.  
Eliott replied immediately: Sorry, I’m busy tomorrow. Maybe next weekend though? 

By the way, I forgot to send that yesterday. Here’s a small souvenir of Thursday. 

Lucas opened the picture: It was a hand-drawn comic strip consisting of three panels. A hedgehog and another animal with a black and white pattern across its face - a badger? – walking and chatting about restaurants in the first one, then the black-and-white animal taking a picture of the hedgehog under the Eiffel Tower and finally both animals eating falafel, spilling sauce and slaw on their fur.  
Lucas had never received something so cute and smiled so hard his cheeks felt strange.

That’s amazing! You’re a really talented cartoonist!, he texted back.

Thank you. I’ve thought maybe this could be a series.

The adventures of hedgehog and – what is that other animal? A badger?

A badger? What? It’s a raccoon! Don’t you know that they are the only animals that wear masks?

So you’re a raccoon then?

Yeah. Do you find that odd?

I don’t know, I just didn’t think you’d have an animal persona. 

Raccoons are the coolest! 

OK, then why am I a hedgehog, not a raccoon, too?

For obvious reasons, Eliott replied, and then someone knocked on the door.

“Lucas, have you fallen into the loo? Or have you just eaten too much pizza?”, Yann mocked him.

Lucas tried to sound as if he was currently plagued by a terrible stomach-ache. “Yeah, it’s actually too much pizza.”

“God, you’re so stupid. You still haven’t learned when it’s time to stop eating, huh?”

I need to go, see you on Tuesday for the yoga lesson!, Lucas typed quickly and then left the bathroom, trying to look as if he had just been sick, holding his stomach for an extra-convincing effect. No one doubted that he had an awful stomach-ache, but the bad thing about it was that Basile kept him from smoking and drinking for the rest of the night. 

The boys left around 2am, and Lucas had no problems with falling asleep. Everything was OK between him and his friends now, and he would see Eliott again in three days. 

On Sunday afternoon it started to snow. He skipped his evening walk since his warmest jacket was not really made for long walks when it rained or snowed. Instead, he curled up with his flatmates on the sofa and Manon forced them to watch an episode of “Le meilleur pâtissier”, her favourite cooking show. Lucas thought that even though it was fair, it still had been a bad idea to alternate the control over what programme was watched between all of them and rolled his eyes when Manon announced her choice for the evening to Mika, Lisa and Lucas. But Manon fed them home-made chocolate banana cupcakes, and even though he would never have admitted it, he soon found it somewhat entertaining to watch amateur bakers freak out over crème pâtissière and pâte brisée. 

School on Monday went by quietly, with a nice lunch break spent with le gang at the canteen. On Tuesday he received a tolerable grade on his German essay, and Yann invited Lucas over for dinner at his house. “My mum’s making roast chicken, and since she hasn’t seen your ass in months, she told me to invite you and not to take no for an answer.” Lucas instantly agreed that he would be over at eight. Mme Cazas was a wonderful, funny and warm-hearted person, and dinners at the Cazas’ were always a lively, informal and delicious affair. 

Lucas was in a cheerful mood when he entered the yoga studio at 6 in the evening. He had arrived at the last minute, almost directly after school, and therefore tiptoed to his usual spot, so as not to disturb the others who were already in Savasana, lying on their backs for the initial meditation. Eliott smiled at him warmly and greeted him with a tiny wave. Lucas felt a flush creep up on his cheeks and shyly waved back. He found it strange that the longer he seemed to know Eliott, the shier he sometimes felt in his presence. 

When the lesson ended, Lucas hurried to change out of his jogging pants and into a pair of jeans for the special occasion of dinner at Yann’s place (some of his parents’ education seemed to have paid off, after all, even though his father liked to disagree). He would have to take the metro in 15 minutes, but hoped that he would have time to briefly talk to Eliott before the students for the next class arrived. Unfortunately, Eliott was talking to a new yoga student, a pretty girl that was smiling, blushing and playing with her braided hair while Eliott spoke to her in a voice that was too quiet for Lucas to eavesdrop. Lucas was fuming with jealousy, but somehow looking at the girl was also a revelation. Was that how he looked at Eliott when he talked about his favourite places in the city, when he spoke about illustration, his eyes all lit up? Then, dear God, his crush was so obvious to everyone who had eyes that every comment he made about hot girls was utterly pointless. 

He had stood there and stared at them for way too long, and he hoped that Eliott hadn’t seen him lingering here like an idiot. Then he remembered that it was probably time to go. A look on his phone confirmed that he would miss the metro if he didn’t leave soon, so he said goodbye to Eliott, seemingly careless. “Sorry, I can’t wait, I’m invited to a friend’s for dinner!” Eliott nodded, shrugged and smiled apologetically. “I’ll text you, Lucas, let’s meet up soon!” 

Mme Cazas’ roast chicken was even more delicious than he had remembered it. The table was loaded with vegetables, gravy, couscous, potatoes and salad, and he ate much more than he should have. His stomach winced in pain when Yann’s mum even served them dessert, and Yann once again made fun of him for eating too much. Time had flown by over eating, listening to funny stories about Mr Cazas' weird coworkers and Mme Cazas sarcastic remarks about French politics that prompted Yann to rant about enarques and French technocracy. He realized how much he had missed these lively meals that always made him feel at home.

“I hope from now on you’ll remember again where we live, Lucas”, Yann's mother told him as they said goodbye. Lucas smiled at her, thankful she hadn’t asked how things were at school or with his mother. She was just being supportive and kind, waiting for him to open up when he wanted, but otherwise providing him with a safe place to return to – and not for the first time he thought that Yann had definitely inherited more from her than his eyes and nose. “Definitely, I’ll just follow the amazing smell of roast chicken!”, he replied, putting on his jacket. He reached inside the sleeve for his scarf, but it wasn’t there. He frowned, checked the other sleeve in vain and then tried to remember if he had had it after the yoga lesson. He was sure he had had worn it on the way to the studio, but he had probably left it there in his hurry to talk to Eliott. Lucas took out his phone to check the time. It was quarter to ten, and the late class finished in fifteen minutes, so maybe he was lucky and Eliott was still around by the time he got there. He decided to give it a shot and hurried to the metro station.

He missed the metro by a few seconds, and had to wait ten minutes for the next one. When he arrived in the street where the yoga studio was located, it was almost half past ten. He waited for a gap in the still heavy traffic so he could cross the street and saw that the lights in the studio had already been turned off. He was too late. Lucas sighed, sad he wouldn't see Eliott again, but then two people emerged from the courtyard and closed the gate behind them - Eliott and Lucille. He was about to make his way across the street when the way Eliott touched Lucille stopped him in his tracks. He smiled at her, putting his arms around her waist, and Lucille laughed, throwing back her head before she curled into Eliott’s embrace. He planted a kiss on her forehead and then they walked off together, arm in arm.


	5. The scarf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas wants to get his scarf back, even though this means he needs to see Eliott again, something he would very much like to avoid.  
> Basile is nosy and annoys Lucas in this chapter, I'm really sorry about that. I'll try to make it up in future chapters.  
> Lucas finally gets to know a bit more about Eliott.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably my favourite chapter so far.
> 
> Come and talk to me on Tumblr if you like, I'm @summersinpuglia

When his alarm rang in the morning, Lucas groggily sat up in bed. He hadn’t been able to fall asleep again the night before, and had walked through the city in the freezing cold for hours, until his toes and fingers felt as numb as the rest of him. He had been going over every single meeting with Eliott that he could remember, wracking his brain. Shame was the first feeling he could clearly identify after the realization that Eliott and Lucille weren’t just close colleagues, but in fact in love with each other, had made his stomach turn. How could he have been so naïve? What had he been thinking? Eliott had just been friendly and open to him, nothing more, and he had stupidly misinterpreted that friendliness as something more. 

He had been so starved of people really caring about him that he thought the first person who showed an interest in getting to know him was into him. How embarrassing, Lucas thought. And then, when his subconscious had led him to the marina of Canal St. Martin, where they had had the conversation about moving away and being someone else in a new city, it struck him that there was a second alternative. Maybe he hadn’t misunderstood Eliott’s intentions. Maybe it was much worse than that - and Eliott had in fact flirted with him although he had a girlfriend, and had hoped to hide his relationship with Lucille from Lucas, maybe wanting to test the waters with him before he would get bolder and would dare to find out if he liked sleeping with boys, all while being in an inconspicuous heterosexual relationship. It wasn’t so unlikely, was it? After all Lucas himself had tried to use a girl as a beard more than once. If Eliott had really wanted to hide his intentions from Lucas, he had done a brilliant job – he had never done or said anything that could clearly be interpreted as more than a platonic interest in Lucas.

There was no way Lucas could ever prove to anyone, including himself, that Eliott had raised Lucas’ hopes, and if he confronted him about it, Eliott would probably just deny everything. Lucas had gotten himself into a mess, like the inexperienced, lovestruck idiot he was, but that was hardly news, and if he didn’t tell anyone about it, no one would ever know. The main problem was that Eliott was either a really nice guy, someone he would still want to be friends with even if pining for him was quietly breaking his heart, or he was just a player that pretended to care about people’s feelings but wasn’t actually interested in a serious relationship, platonic or romantic - and Lucas had no idea which of the two scenarios was true. 

At school he struggled to stay awake, especially after the lunch break, but he ignored his phone for hours for the first time in weeks, prompting Imane to make a sarcastic remark about his renewed interest in their lessons. When Lucas finally took out his phone at the end of the school day, he saw that Eliott had been sending numerous texts, suggesting a walk around his neighbourhood to show him the street art there, said that Lucas could come over to pick up the scarf any time, or that he would bring it with him to the studio the next time Lucas came to the yoga class. Lucas didn’t know what to reply, so he just kept silent. 

His plans for the weekend had been to go to a yoga class on Saturday morning and maybe spend Saturday night or Sunday afternoon with Eliott, but now he only wanted to avoid him.  
When school ended on Friday afternoon, Lucas didn’t feel the excitement and relief he usually felt before the weekend. Instead, he was filled with dread because he didn’t have any plans for Saturday and Sunday and would definitely overthink the situation with Eliott. 

He was glad that before he went home, he would meet up with le gang for kebab. Being with his friends brightened his mood a little, but he was exceptionally quiet today and mainly listened to Arthur’s and Basile’s animated conversation about le crew’s plan to redecorate the foyer. He added occasional, unenthusiastic remarks and Yann noticed that Lucas’ heart wasn’t in it. He didn’t say anything and just tried to cheer him up with funny stories about his parents, wo had also asked him to invite Lucas for dinner again. 

“Do you all want to go to the flea market at Porte de Vanves on Sunday morning? Alexia said that she would meet the girls there, and we could all have brunch together afterwards”, Arthur suggested when they were about to part ways in front of the kebab place. Yann and Basile were ecstatic about the suggestion when Arthur mentioned that Daphné and Emma had also confirmed to be there, and since Lucas didn’t have anything else to do, he agreed it was a good idea. Eliott had recently told him about the flea market and how great it was. If he got to experience it with his friends now, and not with Eliott, it would be even better. He didn’t need him to discover new places in the city.

On Saturday morning he woke up early, so that he would still have made it to the yoga class on time, but instead he joined Mika and Manon for breakfast in the kitchen. Manon hat made another batch of cupcakes (carrot with lemon frosting), Mika had gotten croissants and Lucas contributed by squeezing oranges with their manual juicer. Finally something that allowed him to release all that pent-up anger and frustration. Drops of juice flew around him as he attacked the orange halves, hitting his face and the kitchen cupboards. “Hey, take it easy, chaton!” Mika said. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been in a bad mood all week. Some trouble with a little lady friend?”

“No, no lady friend. Just school trouble.”

“Wow, I’m so glad I’m not at school anymore. Anyway, did I tell you about that gorgeous guy I hooked up with last weekend? He wants to meet again tonight.” Lucas just rolled his eyes. It was so typical of Mika not to show any empathy at all and to shove one of his hook-up stories into Lucas’ face instead. Why did he even ask when he clearly didn’t care? 

After their breakfast Saturday dragged along, boring as hell, and Lucas’ stomach was upset, probably from a mixture of too much sugar and caffeine. He didn’t want to think about Eliott, and since the weather was still cold and rainy, he decided to stay at home to catch up on all the school stuff. He arranged his textbooks on his bed and tried to study. But his motivation didn’t last long, and he soon found himself stalking Eliott’s Instagram for clues about Lucille. There were no photos of her, only a few old drawings that might or might not show her. To make matters worse, he had the brilliant idea to google “how to tell if a guy with a girlfriend is into men”, but didn’t find any advice that was helpful. Instead, he came across posts by women that had found out their boyfriends were gay or that asked how they could figure out if their husbands preferred sleeping with men. Lucas couldn’t stop thinking about the girls he had been with, and wondered if they had ever suspected that he wasn’t straight. The things he had read online kept him awake all night, and he felt remorse about having led the girls on. 'He prefers group meetings and parties to dates with me.' - 'He doesn’t want to touch me when we’re alone.' - 'Whenever I initiate physical intimacy, he comes up with excuses, or loses interest quickly.' - 'I found gay porn on his computer, but he doesn’t know.'

On Sunday morning they picked up Basile, who lived quite close to Porte de Vanves, and decided to walk to the market to get fresh pastry on their way. Baz wanted to prove that the best croissants choco-amandes in Paris were made in his hood. Lucas was tired and in a bad mood, and he only noticed that they were passing a yoga studio when Basile stopped to stare inside and shout-whispered, “Guys, guys, stop! You need to look at that! Every day on my way home from school I take a detour to watch all these pretty girls doing yoga. Damn, I think I need to start doing a class here myself!”  
Inside, a yoga lesson was in progress, and even though the curtains were drawn for more privacy, the fabric was so sheer that the boys could make out about 15 young women going through a sequence of sun salutations. 

Arthur snorted. “I don’t think you’re the type for yoga, Baz. You can hardly keep quiet and not fidget for five minutes!”

“But it would be absolutely perfect for getting to know hot women. Since all the guys who do yoga are gay, it would be the perfect undercover move to befriend girls.” Lucas’ hopes that this Sunday morning would provide a welcome distraction and not remind him of the elephant in the room were instantly gone. 

Yann raised his eyebrows. “Erm, I think this is a bit of a generalisation, Baz. After all, …” he began, but then he caught Lucas looking at him, wordlessly shaking his head, in a silent plea not to talk about his new hobby. “But didn’t we want to get fresh pastry?”

Arthur chimed in. “God, Yann, how can you be so buff when all you seem to care about is food?” They started walking again, Arthur, Yann and Baz bickering in that teasing, but affectionate way that can only be found among good friends, while Lucas kept some distance from the others, quietly sulking and feeling sorry for himself. 

The flea market was already in full swing when they arrived, still munching on their (indeed exceptional) pastry. It was a mixed crowd - elderly couples strolled along the rows of tables, parents tried to talk their children out of kitschy décor and cheap toys, and hipsters and tourists picked up pieces of old chinaware, pulled records out of crates or browsed through coatracks almost collapsing from the weight of the clothes hung on them. 

Soon the boys were digging through the display of a stall that specialised in vintage clothes. Lucas and Yann amusedly watched Basile trying on various grimy-looking leather jackets, posing for Arthur who was egging him on and taking pictures, when a quiet “Salut” way too close to Lucas’ ear made him jump and turn around. He found himself facing Eliott, in his soft brown jacket, hair tousled, a black scarf wrapped around his neck. He looked really good, cheeks red from the cold air, and genuinely excited to meet Lucas here. "Oh no", Lucas thought. He was supposed to be mad at Eliott, not marvel at the way he looked.

“I was hoping to find some vinyl bargains today. It’s such a coincidence you’re here. I had thought of asking you to come, but when you didn’t reply, I thought that you were probably busy.” Didn’t he look a bit sad when he said that? No, Lucas’ lovesick brain was probably making things up. 

“Yeah, I’m here with my friends.” Lucas replied coolly, pointing to Yann as well as to Basile and Arthur, who had just stopped their photo shoot. “Hi, I’m Eliott. Nice to meet you.” He smiled and nodded at them.

“So, what shall we do about your scarf? Do you want me to bring it with me the next time we see each other in class?”

“Class? Do you go to our school, too? I’ve never seen you. Are you also in Terminale S?” Basile chimed in.

Lucas could barely resist rolling his eyes and bit the insides of his cheeks instead.

“No, Eliott and I do sports together, he’s the instructor, actually,” he explained matter-of-factly.

“Oh, you didn’t tell us that you’re doing sports now. What gym are you at?” 

God, Basile’s nosiness had always been annoying, but now it had reached a new level. At least his assumption that Lucas and Eliott went to a gym made it easier to come up with a believable story. Now he only had to get rid of Eliott quickly, before Baz or one of the others started asking more questions.

“Um, it’s just a small place around the corner from my apartment, it’s not really known.” He fished around in his pocket for his phone, looked at the screen that was void of any notifications and tried to put on a facial expression that hopefully looked as if he was suddenly surprised and slightly stressed. 

“I’m sorry, Eliott, but we actually have to go now, we’re meeting friends for breakfast. I’ll see you at the gym. Allez, les gars, or we’ll be late!”

“But didn’t the girls say they will text us when they are ready for breakfast? I think we’ve got plenty of time!”, Yann replied.

“Imane just texted me, they are already waiting for us at the café.” 

Eliott looked at him, eyebrows raised, clearly puzzled by Lucas’ weird behaviour.

"Serves him right", Lucas thought pettily.

Eliott shrugged. “Right, I don’t want to keep you then. Bye, guys. See you at the gym, mec.” Afterwards, Lucas was pretty sure that the sarcastic, hurt undertone was something he had just imagined. 

**************

He would not go back to the yoga studio, Lucas decided after skipping the class on Tuesday again. There were countless other studios in the city, and even if the location of a different studio was a little less convenient, he could do yoga in peace there. He would make sure to find one with a female instructor and predominantly middle-aged yogis so he could avoid developing more crushes. But still, Eliott had his scarf. He would have let it be if the scarf hadn’t been a gift from his mother, handknit from wool she had bought during a family holiday in Ireland some years ago, when she and Lucas’ father had still been together and she had been much more stable than now. There was no way he would give up one of the few precious gifts from his mum over a guy who had played with his heart. On Thursday, after spending way too much time with thinking about the best strategy, he texted Eliott that he would come and pick up the scarf. It would also give him closure, he thought.

“Sure, you can come over at the weekend. I’ll be at home all day on Saturday.”

Eliott’s apartment on the sixth floor of a dilapidated townhouse in Belleville was tiny, but lofty. It was nothing more than a single room with a kitchenette and an outdated minute bathroom hidden inside a massive built-in closet that entirely covered one of the walls. The bed seemed to be on the open gallery that could be reached via a wooden ladder. The walls were slanted, and on the gallery there was probably not enough room to sit upright, let alone do anything, um, more exciting. Every Parisian art student dreamed of this kind of picturesque but overpriced converted attic/maid’s room, and Eliott probably paid a rent that was way too high considering the lack of both space and amenities. 

Nevertheless, the apartment was beautiful. Lucas had the impression of being in an artist’s treehouse - the place was scarcely furnished, but there were wooden beams the colour of dark honey, countless drawings pinned to the whitewashed walls, and plants everywhere. Eliott had even hung a multitude of big and small planters with ferns, crassulacaea, ivy and spider plants from one of the beams to create some kind of green partition wall that separated a table currently occupied by rolls of paper, paintbrushes and art supplies from two pallets that had been covered with a mattress, a colourful throw and a few cushions to form a makeshift sofa. 

Eliott’s hands were dirty, and when he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, some potting soil stuck to his skin just above his eyebrow. “Hi, Lucas. Come in, but be careful - don’t step into the dirt on the ground. I’d give you a hug but I don’t want to get soil on your clothes.” 

Thank God, Lucas thought and carefully stepped around a bag of potting soil that had been cut open with a kitchen knife. The surrounding floorboards were covered in small lumps of dirt. Lucas leaned against a wooden post in the middle of the room and folded his arms, consciously keeping a safe distance from Eliott. A hug was the last thing he needed now. Eliott’s messy hair and the streak of dirt across his face were distracting enough. It was stupid that he still found him so endearing when there was a 50 percent chance that he was an asshole. How on earth could his heart be such a masochist?

“Take a seat. Would you like some coffee?” Eliott pointed to the sofa, but Lucas stayed where he was. 

“No, thanks. I’m meeting friends for coffee later.” It was a lie – they had talked about having coffee at the flat later, and about trying another one of Manon’s cakes, but he hadn’t really confirmed that he would be there – but Eliott didn’t need to know that.

“OK, but I need some caffeine. I’m so tired now, I stayed up last night to work on the design of a project and didn’t get enough sleep.” Eliott rummaged through the dangerously full kitchen cupboard and took out a small moka pot and an ancient-looking, battered storage tin. He filled the pot with water, spooned some coffee from the tin into the insert of the pot and screwed the top back on. There was a nonchalant elegance about his movements, from the way he held the moka pot to the little half-pirouette he did when he put the coffee tin back into the cupboard. In the bright afternoon light Lucas noticed the veins on Eliott’s arms for the first time, and he had to admit that his plan - going to see Eliott to get over him - had epically failed. 

Eliott placed the espresso maker on the stove and turned around to face Lucas. “So what have you been up to?”

“School stuff, mainly.”

“It must be really stressful if you didn’t have time to come to the yoga classes. I missed you at the studio.” He sounded concerned.

“Yeah, about that – I’ve actually decided to quit yoga.”

“Oh, really?” Eliott looked at him inquisitively, a deep frown on his forehead.

“Yeah. I need to focus on school and don’t have time for the classes anymore.”

“So it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that you lied to your friends about how we met?”

“No.”

“But why didn’t you tell them you do yoga?” 

Lucas didn’t reply instantly, but thought about what he should do. Come up with an excuse? Or tell him that his friends were so thoughtlessly, casually homophobic sometimes and he couldn’t bear it anymore? Then he had a different idea. If Eliott wanted him to be honest, he could expect honesty from him as well. He wouldn’t see him again any time soon anyway, and if he confronted him, then maybe Eliott would feel bad, too. He took a deep breath and asked: “Why didn’t you tell me about Lucille?”

“What?”

“I didn’t know you were a couple.”

“Lucille and I? Oh no, we’re not a couple – not anymore.”

“I didn’t get the impression.”

“Huh? When?”

“When you kissed her and you walked home in each other’s arms after the yoga lesson.”

“Oh, that day - you saw us?”

“Yeah. I wanted to get my scarf from the yoga studio after I had had dinner at Yann’s place, but I was late.”

“Is that why you’ve ignored my messages for the past two weeks?”

“No, as I said, I was busy with school.” He felt himself blush and hoped it didn’t show too much. 

The moka pot started gurgling, and Eliott turned around to take it off the stove, burning his fingers while pouring the espresso into a cup. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. He took a milk carton from  
the fridge, added some of its content to the coffee and then pressed his fingers against the cool packaging. 

“That’s not really hygienic,” Lucas said.

“I don’t have any ice cubes, so this will have to do.” He sounded strained and looked at the floor for a moment, then back at Lucas. 

“Lucas, I’m sorry you feel like I kept something from you. I probably should have told you more about Lucille. But she has always been around and sometimes I’m annoyed that there is this person that knows me so well. Meeting someone who doesn’t know about our past and doesn’t get to know me as one half of “Eliott and Lucille” felt so good that I wanted to keep it that way. Not telling you about her somehow also signifies that she is no longer playing such an important role in my life.”

“For how long were you together?”

“Five years. We broke up last summer. We had become more like best friends, and I think she still is my best friend, but romantically it just didn’t work anymore. Too many things happened.”

“Like other girls?”

“Mainly fights, and break-ups. In the meantime, other girls, yes. Some boys, too. Then we reconciled, and then we fought again. Broke up. Got back together. And so on. It took us much too long to realize that we would be better off as friends.” Eliott chuckled, but it sounded melancholic. Meanwhile, Lucas’ head was swimming. Had Eliott really said “Boys”?

“I’m sorry you broke up. Or, no, I don’t know, it’s probably a good thing?”

“It’s definitely a good thing. We get along much better now and not actually being a part of her disastrous love life but just hearing stories about it is certainly more entertaining.” He giggled, and Lucas couldn’t help joining, suddenly overwhelmed with relief. They were both quiet for a moment when their laughter had died down, but it was a completely different atmosphere now, a relaxed silence after the air had been cleared.

Then Lucas noticed that at least 30 plants in tiny pots were lined up in a row by the window. He pointed to them and asked, “What the hell are you doing here? You already live in a jungle.”  
“I’ve been potting a few plants for my terrace. It’s still too cold to put them outside, but they’ve already outgrown the pots in which I sowed them, so I must do something before they die.”

“You’ve got a terrace here? Where?” 

“Come, I’ll show you!”

Eliott put the milk carton back in the fridge and climbed up the ladder to the gallery – Lucas had been right, it was barely possible to sit upright there - where he pushed open a hatch in the slanted ceiling that was just big enough for a person to squeeze through. He wiggled through the opening and then put his head back in, calling for Lucas.

“Get up here! But pay attention, once you’ve climbed through the hatch you need to make sure you stand on the ladder. You have to climb down a few metres to get to the terrace.”

Lucas followed his instructions. He avoided looking at Eliott’s bed and the things that were scattered around it. It felt strange to be that close to the place that he had tried to imagine so often, and now that he was so relieved about the fact that Lucille and Eliott were not a couple anymore he didn’t want to blow his mood by discovering any tell-tale signs of hook-ups. But had he allowed himself to look more closely at the things scattered on and around the mattress, he would only have discovered that Eliott liked to drink tea and smoke in bed, shared a pillow with an old teddy bear and kept a few books on yoga philosophy around.

When Lucas had climbed through the small opening in the roof and took in the view, he gasped. “You can even see the Eiffel Tower! It’s amazing!”

“Right? We’re on the roof of the house next door. Only my flat has access to it. Technically, it’s illegal to be out here because the hatch is just there so the chimney sweep can do inspections, but it’s pretty impossible to notice anyone is up here. In spring I transform this into a small roof garden. Unfortunately I can’t get big things through the hatch, otherwise I would probably install a huge sofa here. But I sometimes sleep outside on a sleeping mat in summer.”

“You could probably get an inflatable sofa up here.”

“That’s a great idea! I’ve already thought about getting a children’s pool. It would just be a bit annoying to get the water up here. Watering the plants is a hassle already.”  
“Have you thought about fake plants?”

“Fake plants!” Eliott raised his eyebrows and snorted. “I’m sorry, I can’t be your friend anymore. Don’t you know that plants have souls? They are my babies. I can’t believe you’re telling me to get fake plants.”

“I think there would be a lot of advantages. They don’t need water, never outgrow their pots and can’t die.”

“I’m not going to argue with you about that. That’s like telling someone who wants to have children to get a doll!”

“Fair enough, but maybe you could think about low maintenance plants?”

They stayed up on the roof for a bit, sitting on the cement floor and leaning against the fire wall that was warm from the sun and protected them from the cool wind. Together, they brainstormed ideas for the terrace. Eliott wanted a hammock, flowers, strawberries and a cactus garden whereas Lucas suggested growing weed (not exactly low-maintenance, Eliott pointed out) and projecting films or video games onto the wall. Talking to each other was easy again, and Lucas felt his body relax, heavy from exhaustion and relief. He could have stayed there forever, eyes half-closed, just listening to Eliott's calm voice. They both lost track of time until Eliott realized that he would have to leave soon. He had a meeting with Thierry and Elise, who went to art school with him. Together they worked on a project for a mural in the neighborhood. It was the design that had kept him up the night before.

They climbed back inside. Eliott started to collect sketches and scraps of paper to get his things ready, and Lucas didn’t want to be in the way. “I’ll leave so you have time to pack your things.”

“I don’t mind, we could leave together! Stay if you want.”

“OK, then I’ll wait.”

Lucas sat down on the sofa and watched Eliott put sketchpads, pencils, markers, colour swatches, a laptop and notebooks into his backpack, listening to his explanations about the mural. “It’s super stressful at the moment, but I think it will be great. It’s a collaborative design for a wall in a small park – each of us gets to do their own part, but they are all connected.”

“So what is the idea for the design then?”

“Ah, sorry, I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise for everyone, so you will have to wait until it’s finished in June and we reveal it. There’s going to be a little party and all the people from art school will be there.” He rolled up the top of his backpack and moved towards the door.

“All right, I’m done. Remember your scarf, Lucas!”

Ah, yes, the scarf! At this point Lucas had completely forgotten what had originally brought him here (or – more precisely – provided him with an excuse to go and see Eliott). The scarf was on Eliott’s coat rack, hung on top of Eliott’s winter jacket, as if Lucas was a frequent guest, or shared the scarf with Eliott. He was almost hesitant to take the scarf back because he liked the thought that an object which belonged to him stayed here with Eliott. With a a feeling of slight regret he took his scarf, allowing his fingers to brush over the soft fabric of Eliott’s brown jacket in the process.

“You ready?”, Eliott asked. 

Lucas had just finished putting on his jacket and scarf when he noticed something. He started to smirk.

“I am, but I don’t think you are.”

“Wait, why?”

Lucas stepped closer, and, suddenly courageous, reached his hand up to Eliott’s face.

“You still have dirt across your face,” Lucas said, his voice tiny and just slightly betraying him by shaking with nerves. He gently wiped away the streak of dirt on Eliott’s forehead with his thumb and the rest of his fingers touched Eliott’s hair. Eliott appeared startled, but stayed perfectly still. When Lucas had let go, they stayed where they were standing and looked into each other’s eyes, faces just inches away from each other. They didn’t say a word until Lucas couldn’t bear the tension any longer. He took a step back and broke the silence with a nervous laugh and an overly cheerful “So, now you won’t embarrass yourself.” 

Eliott grinned. To Lucas, he didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed or nervous about what had just happened. 

“Thank you. But I’m sure they’ve seen me in worse states.”

They said goodbye and gave each other bises in front of Eliott’s house, then walked off in opposite directions. On his way home, Lucas’ thoughts were racing.


	6. Take Yourself on a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas goes on a special date and tells Eliott about his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait... Hope you're still there! These days I'm an extraordinarily slow writer, and the plot is spinning out of control. I can't write in chronological order and almost 30k into the story this is starting to get very complicated. These boys are very stubborn. ;-) 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the update. I'm dying for comments and kudos, and you can always come talk to me on summersinpuglia.tumblr.com
> 
> <3
> 
> The quote is from "Be Here Now", a beautiful work of art/yoga philosophy by Ram Dass. It's amazing and I've found it extremely inspiring. No wonder that it's one of Eliott's favourite books on yoga philosophy. You can view the whole book here: https://wikischool.org/_media/be_here_now.pdf  
> The street art mentioned by Lucas and Eliott is this: https://66.media.tumblr.com/c6043b5ac286b10dec8549fdb5c9ab40/tumblr_pdfsfz7f8G1qlt6ujo1_1280.jpg

In the following weeks, Lucas saw a lot less of Eliott than he had hoped for. Their last meeting had felt like a fresh start, and Lucas was excited and hopeful, but while spring was slowly arriving in the city, bringing with it longer days and the first flowers, Eliott was almost always in meetings with professors or his group about their mural, and when he wasn’t, he was sketching, researching other street art, planning for the project or teaching yoga classes. 

Lucas missed hanging out with him but didn’t want to pressure Eliott into a meeting, assuming that he was probably stressed out enough. When Eliott unexpectedly suggested spending some time together after the yoga class, Lucas was delighted.

But on Tuesday, the day he would finally see Eliott again, he wasn’t in a good mood. The previous days had reminded him once again that he was a conglomerate of deficits and flaws and this day had been particularly frustrating. One of the mock exams had been given back to them this morning, and his teacher had told him that if it had been a real exam, he would have failed. Basile had mentioned plans for a double date again (Daphné apparently had a friend with whom Basile wanted to set Lucas up), and he hadn’t wanted to tell him no, but hadn’t had the nerve to go through everything he had experienced with Chloé again either. He had come up with a half-assed excuse why he didn’t have time for a date, but it was starting to bother him that his options for hiding his lacking interest in girls were getting fewer. 

On top of that, his mother had left a voicemail at the weekend, asking him if he would come and visit her. It had been months since Lucas’ last visit at the hospital, and she had been home for a few months now and missed him. Still, he hadn’t dared to call her back to promise he would go and see her. He still remembered how terrible he had felt the last time he had visited her. To see her usually so bright eyes dulled by the medication they were giving her, her usually carefully styled hair uncombed and without any sheen, grey roots growing out… But the worst thing was that he had had the feeling she didn’t remember or care about what was going on in his life - that he had been living in a shared flat with three other students for a year now, didn’t see or call his father more than it was necessary and that he was in his final year of school.

Jeanne was much better now, however, and if Lucas was honest, then the reason he didn’t visit her was because they had been so close that he could neither lie to her nor hide anything from her. When Lucas was younger, Vincent, his father, had been travelling a lot for work, which left Lucas and Jeanne on their own, sometimes for weeks. They quickly became a team, stubbornly loyal to one another, and surely Lucas’ father felt left out when he returned at the weekends, neither understanding their games and jokes, nor their wordless communication. Jeanne just had to look at her son, not even sternly, maybe cock an eyebrow or slightly pout her lips, and Lucas knew exactly what she was saying with it. “You know you don’t get away with lying, so don’t even think about trying it.” 

It defeated him every time, even when he was older, and stealing sweets from the usually locked kitchen drawer had long since been replaced by secretly smoking in the backyard with Yann, or by trying to cover up a bad mark in a French exam. 

Having such a close relationship to his mother, and having her to himself during the week had been wonderful, until suddenly it wasn’t anymore. More and more often, he came home from school to find his mother sitting on the sofa, still in her pyjamas, staring into a void that only she was able to see, and she also started to forget that they were out of food, that she had an appointment with one of Lucas’ teachers or that the sheets needed changing. 

When Lucas was fourteen, Jeanne had to go to the hospital for the first time, and during that time his father had met and fallen in love with Anne. His parents got divorced when he had just turned 15, and a few months later they sold the house Lucas had grown up in. For a year he endured living together with his father, Anne and her ten year-old daughter, until - in the summer before Première - Manon, whom he knew from school, had told him about a room at her colloc, and he had the impression that his father was relieved when he suggested moving there because it was "much closer to school". 

His mother, in the meantime, had been in and out of hospitals, desperately trying to build a home for herself. At least the bad conscience of Lucas’ father resulted in his decision to give Jeanne the majority of the money they got from selling their house. This had allowed her to buy a small apartment, so even when she wasn’t able to work due to a depressive episode, she didn’t have to worry about not being able to pay the rent. Lucas was glad she had a place to stay, but had been avoiding meeting her there because seeing the signs of neglect in her apartment was painful and made him feel like a bad son. For the last few months, a nurse had regularly been visiting her at home to check in, and she had become much more stable, but was still going to therapy once a week. 

Despite the fact that she was better now, Lucas didn’t want to worry her. Even though it had been more than three years that they didn’t live together anymore, Jeanne hadn’t lost the ability to read that something was going on from Lucas’ face. She would most certainly find out about his sleeplessness and his fear of failing the bac or not knowing what to do afterwards. 

And then there was her renewed religious zeal, which had provided safety for her during her time at the psychiatric ward – but Lucas was afraid that her enthusiasm was also triggered and intensified by her illness, to an extent that wasn’t beneficial anymore. She had always gone to church and prayed with Lucas when he was small, but after she had first been admitted, she started to take the words of the Bible extremely seriously. 

Lucas didn’t dare to think about which effect learning that her son was gay might have. At the same time, she was the only person he would have trusted enough to tell them that he liked boys. But he had decided that it was selfish to burden her with that knowledge, and thus put off calling her, knowing that she would see through his excuses for not having time to visit her. He felt guilty for being a bad son.

The yoga class, the only thing Lucas had looked forward to all day, didn’t go as Lucas had imagined either. He was not really making any progress on some of the more difficult poses although he tried so hard every day. The ease of the first weeks had worn off, and his competitive, overly self-critical side had emerged once again. They had been starting to practise arm balances like crow and handstand in the last lessons, and while the majority of the students, just like Lucas, was still struggling with balancing their weight on their hands and were told to keep practising easier poses that according to Eliott would eventually help them to get there, a few students already managed to hold a shaky crow or a crooked handstand for a few seconds without the support of a wall or Eliott’s hands. 

To Lucas’ dismay, one of these students was Claudine, a tall and slightly overweight fifty-year old woman that liked to joke about her lack of flexibility. If she was able to do a handstand, then why wasn’t he?

After the lesson, they sat outside on the steps to the studio after everyone else had left. It was a warm evening even though it was only early spring. Eliott smoked and they both sipped ayurvedic tea. Lucas would have gladly swapped it for a beer, but according to Eliott drinking after yoga class was sacrilegious. Therefore he obliged, and secretly admitted - only to himself - that he liked the spiciness of the tea. Lucas doubted that smoking was allowed in the textbooks but didn’t feel like challenging Eliott, who looked tired and less relaxed than normal.

“How is the mural coming along?”  
Eliott sighed and ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “It’s difficult. Everyone has other ideas and doesn’t want to compromise them, and so the other two have suggested that we all get a third of the wall and pretty much stick to the brief, but work individually. I hate it.” 

Lucas looked at him, captivated by Eliott’s darkened gaze and his unusually husky voice, feeling at the same time extremely sorry that Eliott was so exhausted and stressed but also mesmerized by how hot irritation and lack of sleep made him look.

“I want the whole mural to be consistent, you know? Thierry is great with abstracts, and Elise’s thing are colours and contrast, as well as architectural elements. And so I’m telling myself that I need to come up with this great concept that will convince the others to really collaborate so that everyone can highlight what they’re good at, but we’ll still have one huge mural instead of three separate ones.”

“What’s your thing?,” Lucas asked and seemed to consider the question for a moment before a smug expression appeared on his face. “Wait, I know. Cartoon raccoons and hedgehogs.”

Eliott rolled his eyes in an exaggerating way and purposely blew a cloud of smoke into Lucas’ face. Lucas pretended to be upset, waving his hands in a dramatic gesture as if to get rid of the smoke. Maybe this wasn’t the right time for stupid jokes and teasing, he thought.

“I’m a little more diverse than that. It’s true, I love doing animal designs, but I also like drawing and painting people.”

“Animals, people, architecture and abstracts sound like a good combination to me.”

“Yes, definitely, but I think we need to connect them to have a big picture that makes an impact instead of having one third architecture, one third abstracts and one third animals.”

“Like this massive mural of that Japanese woman at the canal in Pantin.”

Eliott’s face suddenly seem to light up.

“The one by Fin DAC? Yeah, that’s really impressive. And the theme of our mural is supposed to reflect the neighborhood, so it would be cool if we could highlight that in a huge design… But can we talk about something else? I’m so tired of it right now, apart from the yoga class I haven’t thought about anything else today. What about you? It’s been three months now that you’ve been doing yoga.”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “OK, fair enough, it’s time for me to rant now. I’m angry that I’m not making any progress with the handstand practice. And I still can’t properly focus on my breath for more than three minutes.” 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Lucas! Let go. So what if you can’t do that now? It does not make your progress any less existent. Sometimes it’s invisible to the eye. What about being able to sleep better, to be more flexible, to breathe more deeply?” 

“Yeah, objectively I know you’re right. But it’s not so difficult to do a handstand. Even Claudine can do it, so why can’t I manage?”

“OK, see, Claudine has been a student at the studio for ten years. But only since last year has she been coming to yoga lessons four times a week. Did she tell you that she had cancer?”

Lucas shook his head, surprised by the turn their conversation was taking. 

“After she was in remission, she decided she wanted to change her life, and that included much more yoga than before. She does it because it helps her to focus on what’s happening now, and doesn’t worry about not making any progress. She just tries everything and is optimistic she will be capable of doing it eventually. But if she doesn’t succeed, it’s not a big deal for her. And I think that’s key: progress often comes when you forget about that one goal and open up for new experiences.”

“I don’t know. That sounds inspirational, but is it really possibly to consciously forget about the goal?”

“I believe so, yes. Under one condition: self-acceptance. In my yoga teacher training, we were told that the first step to stop thinking about reaching goals is to learn to accept yourself as the person you are, not the person you might turn into. And to accept that change doesn’t happen when you decide you want to be someone else, but only when you’re ready. But that means you have to be patient, and just try to be present in the moment.”

“That’s incredibly hard, especially when everyone tells you how or who you should be.”

“I know. There was an exercise we were supposed to practise every night: Lie down on your back, put your hands on your stomach and caress your belly like you love yourself. It’s ridiculous, even painful, when you don’t accept who you are. But I learned that you can treat yourself with love, or at least kindness. In my opinion, if you don’t want to take care of yourself, you also shouldn’t expect others to do so.” 

They sat there in silence, and Lucas let the last words Eliott had said sink in. The thought was frightening and eye-opening at the same time. How many times had he accused others of not considering his needs, but simultaneously denied himself the sympathy he had expected from them?

“I can’t relate at all. No, I can, a bit too much, actually. Any advice on how to start doing that? I’m definitely not trying that stroking-my-belly-thing.”

Eliott laughed. 

“If you really want to give it a go: Do something completely over the top, something you would do for someone you love, but have never actually done for yourself: take yourself out on a date, or even a romantic trip. Do things you have always wanted to do with a lover but could as well do on your own: Watch a romantic film. Soak in the bathtub surrounded by candles and sip champagne. Lie down in a field at night and gaze at the stars. Cook a four-course meal just for yourself, lay the table with flowers and candles. Dress up. Go to a concert. Oh, and the most difficult, but probably most effective exercise: Write a love letter or a poem about yourself.” 

Lucas snorted at Eliott’s ridiculous suggestions. “Yeah, right, that sounds like myself.”

“You know, I could name at least ten things that are adorable about you, but you won’t believe me as long as you resent yourself so much.” Lucas blushed. Eliott had called him “adorable” – he was sure it was a blatant lie told to make him feel better, but he appreciated the effort.

“Fine, if it makes you happy, I’ll try. But don’t think I will let you read the love letter.”

“Ah, well, I might try to beat it.” He winked and Lucas felt the blush intensify. Thank God it had already started to get dark. “No, but if you go on that date, send me a picture.”

Later that night, Lucas lay in bed and tried to think about what Eliott had said. He had sent him a picture later, a page from one of his favourite books about yoga. It looked like a poster. The majuscules were scattered unevenly on brown paper, and there even were cartoonish illustrations of caterpillars and flowers between the lines. The words read: 

WE’RE TALKING ABOUT A METAMORPHOSIS. WE’RE TALKING ABOUT GOING FROM A CATERPILLAR TO BUTTERFLY WE’RE TALKING ABOUT HOW TO BECOME A BUTTERFLY. I MEAN: THE CATERPILLAR ISN’T WALKING AROUND SAYING: MAN I’LL SOON BE A BUTTERFLY BECAUSE: AS LONG AS HE’S BUSY BEING A CATERPILLAR HE CAN’T BE A BUTTERFLY. IT’S ONLY WHEN CATERPILLARNESS IS DONE THAT ONE STARTS TO BE A BUTTERFLY. AND THAT AGAIN IS PART OF THIS PARADOX YOU CANNOT RIP AWAY CATERPILLARNESS

He thought about that quotation and found it frustrating. If he understood it correctly, then no matter how hard he tried to be someone else or to make progress, he wouldn’t get there as long as he wasn’t ready. Even worse, he would miss out on being present in the moment if he thought only about who he’d be after the change. But at the same time the quote told him to stop fighting, and just accept, maybe even enjoy, who he was – which was the same thing Eliott had told him. The words pointed to the core of his issues, but didn’t provide an easy solution. He would have to find a way to enjoy being a caterpillar, and maybe he would start with one of Eliott’s ridiculous suggestions.

The next Sunday, Lucas took a mirror selfie in the bathroom of the old cinema. His face was unrecognizable in it because the flash reflected in the dirty mirror, but the rose that he had stolen from a vase in the foyer of the cinema was clearly visible in his hand. He quickly typed a caption before he hit “Send”. “Best date ever. Doesn’t talk, buys the kind of popcorn I love and even got me flowers.”

Funnily enough, he started to enjoy himself after feeling weird first. The film was good, and he was able to fully concentrate on it, notice all these little details, instead of overthinking the situation and worrying that the girl next to him would make a move, or worse, fantasizing about the boy that sat next to him and whom he longed but didn’t dare to touch. 

Being able to share his experience with Eliott helped, too. On his way home on the bus, he received the latest message from him:

“He’s even wearing a “Romance” sweater! I’m getting jealous, Lucas!”

“Yeah, my man has got style! He’s promised to buy me falafel now.”

“Wow, you’re a cheap date… May I at least recommend you insist on going to that amazing falafel place at Rue des Rosiers?”

“Excellent idea. Besides, Rue des Rosiers is on my way home anyway.”

“You’re going to take him home with you? I’m shocked!”

He chuckled and typed a reply. “I’ve heard so many great things about the skills he has in the bedroom, I’d be stupid to miss out on that.”

Eliott’s reply, sent seconds after the check marks turned blue, made Lucas gasp. “I bet he has great skills, wouldn’t say no to that either!”

**********************  
They met for a cup of coffee at one of Eliott’s preferred hipster cafés after Lucas’ classes the next afternoon. “OK, spill. I want to hear everything about that hot date. Did he live up to his expectations?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know? My lips are sealed.”

“I see, you’re a true gentleman, Lucas.” He had the fucking nerve to wink.

The waiter brought their drinks, coffee for Lucas and a hot chocolate with whipped cream for Eliott, who said he was so tired that having more caffeine would not have any effect apart from giving him heart palpitations. He had also smoked two cigarettes within ten minutes. 

“Maybe you should also try and smoke less? I mean, that husky voice suits you, but it’s not exactly a healthy habit…”

“Yeah, I know, I was trying to quit. But when we meet for the project, smoking is the only possibility to escape the tiring discussions for a moment, so I’m back to being a part-time chain smoker. But I promise I’ll quit once the mural is finished. Hold me accountable!”

“I will! You’ll pay for every cigarette you smoke from the moment the mural is revealed.”

“Can't I get a celebratory smoke at the vernissage?”

“No! If you want to stop, you shouldn’t associate smoking with anything that’s good.”

Lucas was still chuckling about Eliott’s disappointed face when his phone vibrated screen down on the metal table, announcing the arrival of a message. He turned the device around to check. It was from his mother. Even though he was suddenly filled with dread, he unlocked the phone and opened the messenger app.

“My dearest Lucas, I know you’re very busy with your bac but I hope you can make it on my birthday! I’ve invited a few friends and neighbours and would love to show off my wonderful, intelligent son. Bisous, Maman”

Lucas placed the phone in his pocket and added two packets of sugar to his small cup of coffee, stirring agitatedly until he spilt drops of the now saccharine-sweet drink on the table. He felt trapped. There was no excuse he could come up with this time. His mother would not ask him directly in the presence of other people, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t notice something was off. And then she would insist on a second meeting, and he wouldn’t be able to say no. The only thing he could do was probably fake that he was ill, and – his train of thought was interrupted by the shock of Eliott putting his hand on top of Lucas’ to stop its violent movement.

“Lucas, the point of stirring is to dissolve the sugar in the coffee, not to splash it all over the table. What’s up?”, he asked, gently smiling.

Lucas quickly contemplated lying, but then decided there was no real point. Maybe he could at least vent to Eliott about it. He would certainly understand.

“The problem is that I need to go and see my mum. I’ve been avoiding it for months, but it’s her birthday soon, so I’d be a very shitty son to ignore that. But if I go and see her, she will find out that I’m currently in limbo about pretty much everything in life.”

He was very aware of the warmth of the hand that was still on top of his, even though he had stopped stirring. Eliott’s thumb soothingly stroked across the back of his hand.

“But isn’t that a normal thing at this stage in your life?”, Eliott asked.

“Maybe it is. But my mum’s not a normal mum. I don’t want her to worry about me, she’s got enough things on her plate already.”

The movement of Eliott’s thumb stopped.

Eliott frowned. “What do you mean?” he asked, clearly concerned.

“She’s ill. Like really, severely, mentally ill. Manageable, but not curable, the doctor at the last hospital said.” 

Eliott removed his hand and its warmth was replaced by the chilly evening air, which made Lucas shiver. It was only April, after all, not really spring yet. Eliott didn’t reply instantly and instead nodded slowly, seemingly lost in thought before he asked: “And you think telling her about what troubles you might be too much for her?”

“Yeah. She’s been to the hospital so often, and it finally seems that she is getting better – but I’m afraid worrying about me might increase her anxieties again. The truth is, since she’s become ill, I simply don’t know how to deal with her condition. I just wish it would stop and she would be my old mum.”

“But she is still the same person, Lucas, she might have had mental health issues before you knew it. It might be just you who sees her differently now. She probably doesn’t want to be wrapped in cotton wool.”

“But I feel that I have the responsibility for her well-being somehow. I mean, my dad clearly doesn’t give a shit about her, and I’m the only person she still has.”

“And I’m sure she appreciates your care. But don’t you think she already senses something is off after you haven’t met her for such a long time? Maybe it’s better to go and see her and be honest. After all what’s so terrible you can’t tell her?”

“Uh, I’m not exactly the ideal son.”

“Lucas, don’t beat yourself up so much! You haven’t dropped out of school, are going to pass your bac in a few months, aren’t addicted to anything but junk food and seem pretty grown-up and capable of dealing with stuff in your life to me. Apart from the fact that you complain too much, which isn’t exactly healthy by the way. But you’ve even started doing yoga, for fuck’s sake.”

For some strange reason, Eliott seemed to find that extraordinarily funny. Lucas was too stressed to understand why.

“But you know how mums are, they’re always worrying about their children. At least normal mothers. That’s when I knew something was off.”

“Huh?” Eliott looked confused.

“Mum was always so attentive, but when she became ill, she didn’t care about my marks at school or my friends anymore. I mean, yes, she still asked if everything was OK, but I already knew that she didn’t want an honest answer or wouldn’t really listen to me.”

“But Lucas – she’s better now, isn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

“Then go and see her, celebrate her birthday with her, and don’t overthink! If she really asks what’s up, be honest. You still have time to think about what you can tell her to reassure her that you’ll manage!” 

“I guess the problem is that I’m not sure how I will manage. I feel so lost sometimes.” 

“You’re underestimating yourself again. I know things seem hard now, but you can always talk to me, Lucas. And take me as an example that life is not always a constant flow of success, but that doesn't mean you're doomed forever. See, I've failed my bac the first time I tried, almost dropped out the second time and now look at me! Yoga teacher, university student, the perfect son-in-law.” He winked and grinned.

They hugged tightly when they said goodbye, and Eliott sounded cheerful, but somehow, Lucas thought, Eliott had seemed different during their conversation that evening, more restrained and serious than usual. He had said it himself - he was probably just stressed by his project.


	7. I'm a Drama Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't know much about the healthcare system in France, so some things in this chapter might not reflect the real situation in France. I've done some research and found out that there are community centres for mental health, though, which are also mentioned in this chapter. The rest is modeled after typical procedures in Germany, which might not exist in France. I have to rely on your suspension of disbelief in that case.
> 
> Trigger warnings: Description of a panic attack in the part marked with *************************, brief mention of sucicidal thoughts in the same part
> 
> Nov. 5, 2020: Small edit to fix the timeline

Later that night Lucas sent Eliott a message to thank him for his support. He didn’t get a reply, which was unusual, but since he would see Eliott the next evening at his yoga class he didn’t think about it much. When Lucas went to the yoga studio on Tuesday evening, however, Eliott wasn’t there. Instead, Séverine, the owner of the studio, taught the class. It was strange that Eliott hadn’t told him he wouldn’t be there. 

That was why Lucas decided to chat with Lucille after the lesson and to ask her if she knew anything about Eliott. He tried to make it sound as casual as possible. Lucille told him that Eliott had spontaneously filled in the spot for a friend that got ill and couldn’t participate in a yoga retreat. The offer had only come this morning and he had said yes – there was a year-long waiting list for the yoga retreats with the apparently very famous yoga master and he had been dying to go for a really long time. 

The flight to Ireland had just left a few hours ago. Eliott would be in Ireland until Sunday, and there was no way to reach him, since they all had to leave their phones behind in order to immerse themselves fully in the teachings of the guru. It sounded quite fundamentalist, Lucas thought, and he was surprised that Eliott would agree to do that. And what about the mural? He had been so stressed about the project that had taken over the biggest part of his life – how did he suddenly have time to go on a week-long retreat? 

He was puzzled, and even though he knew that it was probably pointless, he tried to call Eliott. But just as he had expected, he was directed straight to voicemail. 

Even though he tried to busy himself with studying in the following days, Lucas constantly thought of Eliott. When Mika told him about a new hipster bar during dinner (“the cutest interior, pink velvet daybeds, hanging brass planters with cacti and tables from reclaimed wood – and absolutely gorgeous waiters”) he took a mental note - Eliott would probably love it as well. When he had to read up on the history of Belleville for a project their history teacher wanted them to do about Paris in the 19th and 20th century he wanted to ask Eliott if he had ever heard of the gangsters called “Les apaches de Belleville”, and that maybe this might provide some inspiration for the mural. He even thought about him when he was shopping groceries at the market on Saturday and noticed that next to the greengrocer’s where he always bought his vegetables a gardener was selling plants. He browsed the display and suddenly had an idea. 

Half an hour later he waited in front of Eliott’s house until someone left the building, caught the door before it slammed shut and walked up six flights of stairs to Eliott’s apartment. He put down a small carton in front of Eliott’s door and hesitated for a moment, recalling the last time he had come here – angry at Eliott, eager to get back his scarf and certain that he would never come here again after that. How differently things had turned out! Lucas let out a soft sigh. He turned and made his way back towards the stairwell when he thought he heard a muffled sound coming from the apartment. But it was probably coming from a neighbor. After all the house was old and its walls and ceilings not exactly soundproof.  
On Sunday he finally received a message from Eliott.

Thank you for the cactus! It’s beautiful.

I have no idea what you’re talking about!

Come on, no one else knows that I want a cactus garden on the roof and everyone thinks I have too many plants already.

Maybe you have a secret admirer. 😉 So you’re back from your retreat? Are you enlightened now?

It was good, I really needed a break.

Do you have time to meet this week? I'm dying to hear about the guru!

Sorry, I can’t, need to catch up on the mural. But I’m teaching at the studio on Saturday and will take the day off - so maybe then?

Sounds great, I’ve missed my favourite yoga teacher!  
*******************************  
Friday felt balmy and almost summery. Lucas’ mood was a lot better than in the previous weeks. He had met up with Imane for successful studying sessions after their lessons twice this week and now he was looking forward to a quiet night alone (Mika and Lisa spent the night at a friend's house in the countryside and Manon had gone to Imane's) and a yoga class on Saturday. He had finally also replied to his mother’s message and promised her that he would be there on her birthday the weekend after the next, and asked her which cake she would like him to bring. Maybe Manon could help him bake it. His mum hadn’t replied yet, but he was used to the fact that it usually took her a few days to answer a message. 

But what really made him happy was that he would see Eliott the next day. They had been texting this morning about what they were going to do the next day. A flat battery had kept Lucas from continuing their conversation during his afternoon classes, but he would text him as soon as he got home. Around five-thirty Lucas entered the apartment and put away the groceries he had bought on the way home - frozen pizza for dinner, and a packet of cookies. He whistled happily to himself while he was preparing a cup of coffee and then carried his mug and the cookies to the living-room before he collapsed on the sofa for an episode of Sex Education. 

Absentmindedly, he plugged in the phone, which buzzed back to life, and an endless string of notifications popped up on the screen. 5 missed calls from an unknown number. 3 missed calls from Vincent Lallemant. 8 unread messages from Vincent Lallemant. It was extremely untypical of his father to bombard him with calls and texts. His heart suddenly loudly beating in his chest, Lucas swiped open the conversation.

Lucas, can you call me?

Call me, it’s urgent!

Aren’t you kids supposed to be online all the time, even in class?

Your mother has been missing since yesterday evening.

Has she been in touch?

When was the last time you heard anything from her?

Has she mentioned any plans to you?

Please call me as soon as you read this.

Lucas’ heart was racing. In a way, he had always been afraid this might happen one day, but it hadn’t prepared him for the worry, the fear, the feeling of helplessness that flooded him. He couldn’t stomach the thought of calling his father now and clutched the fact that there were calls from an unknown number like a straw – maybe she had tried to contact him or someone had already found her. Lucas was her emergency contact after all. He hit the call button with a shaking finger and forced himself to breathe evenly until someone picked up. 

“Hello?”

This was not his mother’s voice.

“Hello, this is Lucas Lallemant, you tried to call me earlier.”

“Oh, hello Lucas, this is Mme Diarra from the CMP.”

Lucas heart sank. Mme Diarra was his mother’s counsellor.

“I heard from my father that she has disappeared. Do you know anything about where she might be?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t. I hoped she might have contacted you, but that doesn’t sound like you’ve heard from her.”

“No, but how do you know she is missing?”

“You should talk to your father about that, Lucas.”

“Please, we don’t have the best relationship – couldn’t you tell me?”

“I came to check on your mother yesterday when we had a counselling session scheduled at her apartment, but she wasn’t there. Sometimes that happens because clients forget appointments, but we always check in again, especially if someone has a history of depression. We sent a nurse over this morning to see if she was at home, but she didn’t open the door. She also didn’t pick up the phone and when we called her mobile phone we were directed to voicemail. It’s in our guidelines to inform the relatives when we can’t reach a client after several efforts and are worried about them. It’s up to them to inform the police, which your father did. They opened the door of your mother’s apartment, and found that your mother wasn’t at home. He called a few hours ago to let us know.”

“Are there any signs that she packed something?”

“She seems to have taken her purse, but she hasn’t taken her phone and it looks like she hasn’t taken her meds with her, although your father was not entirely sure about that.”

“Oh fuck. Do you think we should be worried?”

“I don’t know, really. She seemed to be better, but it’s never a good sign if someone goes missing without letting anyone know where they intend to go.”

Mme Diarra told him that his father had officially reported Jeanne as missing, and the police knew that she was probably in an unstable condition. So far, there had been no reports of suicides and the officers out on patrol all would receive a description of his mother so they could recognize her. 

Instead of spending a quiet evening eating junk food and looking forward to his meeting with Eliott the next day, Lucas paced the apartment restlessly, waiting for and simultaneously dreading a call.

He texted Eliott about what happened, but according to the single grey check mark next to his message he hadn’t seen it yet.

It was after eleven in the evening when the phone rang again. It was a local landline.

“Monsieur Lallemant? This is Commissaire Lemare. We found your mother Jeanne Lallemant. She asked us to call you. She appeared confused and apathetic, but physically unharmed. She has agreed to be transferred to a mental health clinic for the weekend, and they will evaluate and inform you when she can return home.”

“OK, thank God, thank you for calling me.”

Tears of relief stung in his eyes.

“Um, can you give me the address of the clinic?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Lucas scribbled down the name and street of the institution on a piece of paper, thanked the woman again and ended the call. 

Silently he cried. She was safe, she would be taken care of. Maybe he could go and see her in the next days. He would call the clinic the next day. 

He made a call to inform his father, whose voice sounded unusually quiet and shaky, texted Eliott, who still hadn’t read the previous messages, and then went to bed. His bad conscience tormented him for a while before he could fall asleep. He should have visited his mother, at least called her once a week. Maybe then she would have been better and wouldn’t have gone missing. What if she had felt so alone that she didn’t want to live anymore?

Two hours later he woke up, stiff and covered in cold sweat. His heart beat at a rate as if he had just woken from a nightmare, but he couldn’t remember any dream. A sharp pain in his chest increased his fear - he was afraid that he was having a heart attack and had trouble breathing. It was hard to think properly, and he didn’t know what to do apart from calling someone. Yann and Arthur didn’t answer their phones, so Eliott was the only other person that came to his mind, even though he was probably also out partying. Unexpectedly, he picked up almost immediately.

“Lucas? What is it? Something about your Mum?”

“No, she’s safe and at a hospital. But I’m pretty bad, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“OK, Lucas, can you describe how you’re feeling?”

“I’m afraid I’m having a heart attack. My heart is racing and I’ve got a pain in my chest.”

“Have you been sick?”

“No. I’m just dizzy and sweating.”

“How terrible is your chest pain?”

“It’s like someone has stabbed me in the chest.”

“Did it get worse?”

“I don’t know. I’ve just woken up with this pain a few minutes ago.”

“It sounds like you’re having a panic attack, which is very scary, but not dangerous. I’m on my way home and if I catch a taxi I will be at your flat in two minutes, so do you want me to come over? We can call an ambulance together if you want.”

“Yes, please. The door code is 2121. Fourth floor, apartment on the right.”

When Eliott arrived, Lucas was already waiting for him at the door, gasping for air. 

“Thank God you’re here.”

“Come, let’s get you to the sofa, you’re hyperventilating.”

He put an arm around Lucas’ waist and led him to the living-room where Lucas collapsed on the sofa.

“Lucas, look at me. Can you sit a bit straighter?” Lucas obeyed, still breathing heavily, and feeling as if he would faint any minute. His hands were shaking. 

“OK, let’s breathe together.” Eliott sat down beside him, his body turned towards Lucas and took his hands. 

“Can you turn a bit, so that you face me?” He gently stroked his palms, then lifted a hand to touch Lucas’ face. 

“It’s easier to synch our breath if we look at each other. Let’s count to five for every breath. In – 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 – out 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Does it hurt to breath?”

“No, it’s fine. But there’s not enough air.”

“There is. Just try and breathe. Focus on my breathing.” He put one of Lucas’ hands on his stomach so that he could feel the movement of his expanding ribcage and kept holding his other hand.

“I’ve called an ambulance on my way here, I thought it would be best not to lose time. They’ll be here in a few minutes. Everything will be alright.”

Slowly, Eliott’s touch anchored Lucas and he became aware of the slow and steady breath. 

When he had calmed down a bit, Eliott led him to the bathroom, where he splashed Lucas’ face with cool water.

The paramedics arrived shortly afterwards and confirmed Eliott’s suspicion. Lucas’ heart was fine, but he showed the symptoms of an anxiety attack, probably caused by the worry about his mother. They told him to get some rest and to consult a doctor if it happened again.

*******************  
Something felt wrong when Lucas woke up the next day. His body hurt as if he had worked out too hard the day before. His shoulders and arms felt stiff and sore and as he tried to turn his head, a sharp pain in his neck made him wince. Judging from the harshness of the sunlight that flooded the room it had to be at least noon. 

Groggily, he pushed himself up to a sitting position. He had to close the curtains. But when he got up, his feet almost got caught up in a plaid and a cushion from their sofa that lay on the floor. It looked as if someone had spent the night next to his bed, but they weren’t there anymore. He grabbed his phone to read last night’s messages and his memory slowly came back to him. 

He felt embarrassed and ashamed for ignoring his mother's suggestions to come and visit her, for not standing up to his father, ashamed because Eliott had seen him in such a state. Weak, being afraid of dying, desperate. He groaned to himself and went to the bathroom to take a shower.

When he opened the door again, just clad in a towel wrapped round his hips, there was a smell of coffee coming from the kitchen. A shyly smiling Eliott stood in the doorway between kitchen and living-room, still looking like a model despite his crumpled clothes and messed up hair. 

“Hey, how are you? I was up early and thought I'd buy some stuff for breakfast.” Eliott scratched his neck, looked at the floor and appeared a bit flustered, which Lucas attributed to the night before. Its only logical, he thought, he doesn’t know how to react now, just like myself. 

“Eliott, I'm so sorry about last night, I exaggerated. I’m a drama queen sometimes,” he tried to joke. 

But Eliott didn’t smile. “No, Lucas, you’re not. A panic attack should be taken seriously and is nothing to be ashamed of. Have you had one before?”

Lucas shook his head, still feeling embarrassed. 

“No, I don’t think so. And anyway, it wasn’t that bad. Nothing a good breakfast can’t cure. I hope you won’t disappoint me,” he tried to joke and slipped through the gap between Eliott and the doorframe to examine the breakfast table. There was fresh baguette and croissants, even pain au chocolat and sacristains, different jams, freshly squeezed orange juice, café au lait and fresh eggs. He never prepared things like that for himself. When Mika and Manon weren’t in the mood or too broke to spoil the colloc with fresh pastry at the weekend, his usual breakfast consisted of a bowl of cereals with milk and a glass of whatever soda was in the fridge. Eliott had even decorated the table with fucking flowers in a vase. Since when did they have vases at the colloc?

“You were definitely in a bad place yesterday, Lucas,” Eliott said softly. “But you know there are professionals that can help you with it.”

Suddenly, Lucas was angry. “Yeah, shrinks, I know. But I’m not a nutcase like my mother.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t go fucking missing and upset my family and the police have to come and get me to a home.”

Eliott raised an eyebrow and his voice became more quiet, but there was a strain to it, as if it took him an enormous amount of self-control not to sound annoyed.

“First of all, Lucas, your mum couldn’t help going missing. Don’t blame her. Secondly, shrinks are not just for “nutcases”, whatever you mean by that. They are experts for mental health and it’s not a sign of weakness to go there. When you’re seriously ill, you also see a doctor and don’t consider it “weak” to take penicillin, right?”

Maybe Eliott had a point there. Embarrassed, Lucas excused himself to get dressed, hastily pulled a t-shirt over his head and slipped on boxers and a pair of jogging pants that he had carelessly thrown on his desk the day before. On the floor next to his bed there was still the makeshift bedding Eliott had used the night before. The sight of it filled him with warmth. Somebody had cared so much about him that they had stayed by his side all night to make sure he was OK. No one, apart from his mum, had ever done that for him. He bent down to pick the things up, pressed them to his chest and carried them to the living-room, his nose buried in the plaid, then dropping them on the sofa as if anybody had walked in on him doing something forbidden. 

He returned to the kitchen, sat down at the breakfast table and looked at Eliott apologetically. “I’m sorry. You’re probably right. It’s just that I think a psychologist will laugh at me when I tell them what happened. I mean, aren’t there people that need a psychologist much more urgently? It’s like I go to see a doctor when I have a harmless cold.”

“But a cold could develop into pneumonia if you aren’t careful.” Eliott had crossed his arms across the chest, but there was a faint smile on his lips.

Lucas sighed in a mock-exasperated way. “OK, I promise, if I have another panic attack, I’ll seek out help.”

It was amazing to see how the relief transformed Eliott’s face, his smile growing larger and his eyes starting to crinkle at the edges, until Eliott was fully beaming at Lucas. It felt like being showered in affection, and Lucas suddenly had goosebumps on his back. Eliott didn’t say anything, but reached across the table to rub Lucas’ arm affectionately. 

He couldn’t remember ever feeling so relaxed and peaceful at breakfast, and he didn’t even freak out when Mika and Lisa returned much earlier than expected and interrupted what to them probably looked like a romantic super-late breakfast after a sleepless night of hot sex. He simply introduced Eliott as his friend to them, and Eliott made some small-talk and offered them pastry because he had bought too much – a winning move, Lucas thought. Then they left the apartment together for the yoga lesson.


	8. Acquiesce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas finally meets his mum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Description of mental illness: in particular dissociative fugue and depression; allusions to internalized homophobia
> 
> I've had to do a lot of research about dissociative fugue and what can trigger it for this chapter. But I'm not a psychiatrist, so I might have got some things wrong. I also would like to point out that while what happened to Jeanne is realistic according to the sources I've read, it also seems to be very rare.
> 
> Yin yoga is challening, but its effects on the mind and body are amazing. I tried it out recently and immediately thought it was perfect for the story.

After a walk around the neighborhood after the yoga class they stopped for some hot chocolate and cappuccino at a café. Lucas told Eliott that he would probably have to cancel their plans for going to a bar and a concert later. He still felt a deep exhaustion and was afraid that overstimulation from alcohol and loud music wouldn’t make things better. Although Eliott suggested doing something quiet instead, like watching a film, he declined. Even though he would have very much liked to spend the evening with Eliott, he needed some time alone. And Eliott had been so enthusiastic about seeing the band that he didn’t want him to miss it.

On Monday, after a lazy Sunday at the coloc with Mika, Lisa and Manon, Lucas was finally allowed to visit his mother at the hospital, and thus left school early in the afternoon with a special permission. Taking the metro to Porte de Montreuil, he was getting increasingly nervous because he didn’t know what awaited him. He couldn’t help remembering the last times he had made these trips and hoped that this time his mum was relatively ok and not massively medicated. He had been asked to meet her in the lobby of the hospital, which looked a lot less bleak and intimidating than the last hospital she had been admitted to. The room Lucas entered was light and huge with high, angular wooden ceilings, furnished with well-worn, massive brown leather armchairs and sofas, and a lot of tall plants in rectangular concrete planters in front of the windows. 

Jeanne sat in an armchair by one of the windows, reading a book, her back turned towards the entrance. She looked so small and fragile in the big piece of furniture that he had trouble not to start crying. Bracing himself, he approached her. 

She was so absorbed in the book she didn’t see him, even when he stood directly in front of her. She looked well - maybe a bit tired, but relaxed nevertheless. Her thick hair was in a low ponytail and she wore clothes in her favorite colors, a dark emerald woollen sweater that looked incredibly soft and wide-legged navy blue trousers. 

“Maman!”

She looked up from her book and beamed at him, then got up to wrap him into a tight hug. 

“Lucas, darling. It’s so good to see you!”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t come to see you for such a long time.”

She sat down again in the armchair and patted the armrest of the chair next to hers to signal him that he should take a seat as well, which he did.

“It’s alright – you had promised you’d come to my birthday party – and who would’ve thought I’d suddenly go missing…” She smiled and shook her head in disbelief.

“But what happened? Why did you just leave and didn’t tell anybody?”

His mother put up her palms and shrugged, then sighed.

“If I only knew that. It’s as if two days are completely erased from my memory. The last thing I can remember from before I must have left is that there was a big fire at the house next door at night. The firefighters came, and several ambulances. But it feels like a dream because in some of the pictures that I have in my head I am inside the burning house and terrified of dying. The next thing that I remember doing is praying at a church. Apparently, this was two days after the fire. The pastor started talking to me and I told him about the fire. He asked me some questions and I realized I didn’t know how I had got there and didn’t know what day it was. He suspected that something must have happened to me and called the police.”

“God, Mum, that’s super scary. But could it be a side effect from your medication or could it be a symptom of your depression?”

“Apparently, what happened to me is a very rare thing called ‘dissociative fugue’. People in that state leave their homes for days, sometimes even for weeks or months, and forget who they are during that time. Then, after some time, the memory of their former life comes back to them. Typically, the fugue seems to be caused by a traumatic experience.”

“The fire.”

“Well, that’s what I thought at first, too. But apparently, seeing a fire next door is not enough for causing a trauma. The psychiatrist I talked to thinks that I may have been retraumatised. She says she believes that at some point in the past I experienced a traumatizing situation that involved a fire, and that the fire last week caused that trauma to reappear. And that also explains these dream-like pictures that I can remember.”

“But you don’t know what happened?”

“No, not at all. But there is a special form of therapy that could help me to remember what happened. It’s said to be quite difficult and can be very exhausting, but a trauma that has resurfaced can have quite horrible consequences, and I don’t want to leave it untreated. Maybe my depression will be positively affected in the long run, since the trauma could be what triggered it in the first place.”

Lucas didn’t really know what to say. What his mother had told him was overwhelming – he couldn’t imagine how she was feeling, not remembering what she had done over the course of two days. So he settled on just expressing his relief. “I’m so glad you’re well and nothing has happened to you.” 

She took his hand into hers and squeezed it.

“Thank you. I’m glad, too. Being depressed is scary sometimes, but not knowing at all what you’ve done for 48 hours, where you’ve spent the night, how you managed to eat is really something else…” She shook her head. “If someone else had told me this story, I wouldn’t have believed it. But enough of this. It’s a nice day, and I hoped that you would want to go outside. The nurses keep telling me about this patisserie in the neighborhood, do you want to check that out with me?”

Lucas was glad that his mother made this suggestion. Even though the hospital didn’t feel as claustrophobic as the others he had been to, he wasn’t exactly in his comfort zone either and welcomed a change of scenery. After a short walk they spent the rest of the afternoon discussing their shared passion - delicious pastry – over a table full of tartelettes, éclairs and Paris-Brests at the little patisserie, and made plans for Jeanne’s birthday she still wanted to celebrate. He also told her about the Parcousup applications. He had submitted an application for biology because his counsellor had told him it was a good choice, but he was skeptical he would receive many offers. Sure, his grades in sciences de la vie et la terre were good, but he didn’t excel at the other subjects, and contrary to some of his classmates that had already done internships because they had known for years that they wanted to become a biologist, he didn’t have any work experience in the field. He was nervous about telling his mother that he maybe would have to go to a different city for his studies, but tried to reassure her that he was trying everything possible so that he would be able to get a spot at university in Paris to be around if she needed him.

When they said goodbye in her little room back at the hospital, Jeanne hugged him very tightly.

“Lucas, whatever you do – don’t stress out. You’re still very young, so you’re allowed to not know what or who you want to become, and I don’t want you to worry about me worrying about you. I trust you and I know that you will make the right decisions if you stop doing what others want you to do and start listening to your own inner voice. I wish I had realized that when I was younger, but it’s never too late to learn that lesson. Also, please don’t feel guilty for living your life. I know that having me as a mother already made you grow up faster than other children, and you had to miss out on a lot of things. I don’t want you to continue doing that. My support system is really good now, and I don’t need my son to make sure I take my meds or have mood swings. There are trained nurses and psychiatrists who do this very well. Of course I want to have a good relationship with you and be part of your life - but that doesn’t mean you need to stay in Paris.”

Lucas felt the tears welling up in his eyes and didn’t have any will left in him to fight them. “Maman,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. And for not reaching out to you more often.”

She held him closer and leaned her forehead against his – they were the same height now, Lucas realized – then kissed his wet cheeks. She was also in tears and smiled at him warmly. “It’s alright, Lulu. Never forget that I will always love you. Maybe sometimes I can’t support you the way I want to, and maybe sometimes you’re overwhelmed by my illness, too – but after all you’re my son and I’m your mother, and that is never going to change.” Lucas sobbed into her shoulder. He was so glad he had overcome his fears and visited her here. He hadn’t been aware of it before, but now realized that his mother was probably one the strongest persons he knew. 

He returned to the flat where Mika and Lisa were in the process of completely messing up the kitchen by making pasta from scratch. It was good that Manon was out studying with Imane and stayed for the night, since she was always complaining about the chaotic kitchen. Lisa and Mika were also singing along very badly with Mika's favourite '80s playlist and just briefly interrupted their dramatic interpretation of "Gold" to ask Lucas to join them for dinner. He was so relieved and happy that he even volunteered for doing the dishes with Mika after the three of them had devoured a gigantic pot of tagliatelle with cream, garlic and parmesan cheese.

Mika handed him the wet pasta pot to dry and asked: “I’ve been wondering when Eliott will come visit us again?”

Lucas turned to look at Mika who was too much into scrubbing the pan in the sink in front of him to seem inconspicuous.

“What are you implying?”

“Nothing – he just seemed like a cool guy and it’s good to see you with someone else instead of these rowdy schoolboys you hang out with.”

“Hey, don’t insult my friends, please. Eliott’s a good mate, yeah.”

“How did you meet him? He looks older, so he is not in school with you I guess.”

“He’s my yoga teacher.”

“Oh, I see.” He grinned annoyingly. “Probably very athletic and flexible, that guy.”

Lucas rolled his eyes.

“Mika, stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Making ambiguous allusions about the flexibility of guys you don’t know at all.”

“I haven’t heard you complaining when your very mature friends rank girls by “fuckability”, so I don’t know why you suddenly have a problem with me pointing out that Eliott might have certain skills. Unless you’ve had that thought yourself and feel caught.”

“Oh, shut up.” Lucas dropped the pot he was still drying into its drawer with a loud bang, kicked the drawer shut and left the kitchen, accompanied by the noise of pans and pots rattling inside the cupboard.

“Lucas, you don’t need to break our kitchen equipment because I made a stupid joke. Come back! I’m sorry!” Mika shouted after him, but Lucas had no intention of accepting his apology and threw himself on his bed, scowling.

The worst part of it was that Mika’s observation was totally true. He didn’t say anything when Yann, Arthur and Basile talked about hot girls and made terrible remarks about their bodies and potential talents in bed. He had joined in, sometimes even encouraged them or initiated talking about boobs because he thought that way nobody would suspect that he wasn’t into girls at all.

Not even two more months until school was over, and then he would finally be free and wouldn’t need to put up this straight façade any longer. Now that his mum had told him that it would be ok for him not to stay in Paris for his studies, he was more willing than ever to accept a spot at a university very far away, preferably Bordeaux or Marseille or in some small, remote city without direct train connections so that visiting him there would be a hassle. He was sure that Yann, Arthur and Basile, who all wanted to stay in Paris, would not bother being on trains for several hours just to visit him at the weekends. And then he could lead his life in peace and didn’t have to hide who he really was. 

He lay in bed that night trying to picture himself in a different city, and suddenly became aware that even though he had a gay flatmate who had asked him to come with him to LGBTQIA parties several times, he had never been brave enough to do so. Would he be able to muster up the courage alone? Would he be able to tell the people he met there right away that he was gay? He hadn’t even said the words out loud to himself.

Without switching on a lamp he got up, walked up to his mirror and looked at his reflection. The light from the street lamps outside cast a weird orange glow on one side of his face while his eyes remained dark shadows. He saw his lips move when he quietly whispered, “You are gay, Lucas.” For the second time that day he cried, but without the sobs from earlier - the tears just rolled down his cheeks and onto his pillow quietly, leaving wet stains there. 

The next day, Lucas woke up feeling groggy, but nevertheless a lot lighter than the night before. He had lunch with Yann and Basile, who asked him about his mother and reassured him that she would be ok when he told them what he had learned the day before. It made him happy that they were so concerned. 

After school Lucas went to the yoga studio again. Eliott had promised him a special, but challenging lesson, and he was eager to find out what they would be doing – a headstand, or flying pigeon maybe. 

“Good evening, yogis. Today we will work on our ability to surrender and focus on our breath to remain calm. This is a yin yoga session, and you don’t need to be super flexible or strong for it. It’s actually all about your mind and trusting gravity to do its job. We will hold each pose for a couple of minutes, and the goal is to stay absolutely calm and focus on the experience.”

Claudine, who had rolled her mat out next to Lucas, laughed excitedly. “Oh boy, this sounds easy, but whenever I think that, it’s actually super hard.”

They started in a deceptively easy-looking pose, one they were all familiar with from previous lessons. 

“Let’s come to a seat and bring the soles of our feet together. Then we let our thighs fall to the sides and let gravity slowly pull them down towards the floor. We don’t actively push our thighs down. We slowly lower our head and round our spine forward – you can rest your hands or your forearms on the floor as you are bending forward. Whenever a part of your body feels tight, pause there and breathe into the tension until it subsides. Then continue the journey.”

It sounded simple, but Lucas’ hips started to complain after about a minute. His legs twitched and he didn’t know how he could “breathe into his hips” like Eliott had told them. He became irritated and tried to pull his knees down to the mat with force.

Meanwhile, Eliott was walking up and down between the more or less quietly breathing yogis, his voice calm and gentle. “Just try to let go, don’t use any muscle power. Breathe in deeply, and when you breathe out, try to let the tension out as well.”

He must have seen how Lucas was struggling, because he lightly put his hand on Lucas’ bent back and whispered: “Easy, Lucas. You can release all the tension your body is holding. Don’t crank your legs or hips.” 

Lucas let out a huff of breath and rolled his eyes, which fortunately Eliott wasn’t able to see due to the hair that was hanging over Lucas’ forehead. He tried to focus on the feeling of Eliott’s touch instead. It was too quickly gone for his liking, but at least had distracted him from the pain in his hips.

The second exercise, a low lunge held for several minutes, was even worse. His toes first tingled, then he felt pins and needles in his feet and legs that made it impossible for him to stay calm. His breath was getting heavy and erratic. No way he could relax his muscles in that position. He didn’t feel any tension releasing either. Being made to hold these postures for so long and not being allowed to move felt like torture.

After an hour had passed painfully slowly, he found himself looking into the face of a totally blissed-out Claudine.  
“Wasn’t this amazing?”, she said, beaming. 

“Actually, I don’t think this type of yoga for me, Claudine.” 

“You should try it again. I almost fell into a trance-like relaxation despite the pain of the stretching. It’s weirdly satisfying.”

“Mh, at least I’m satisfied that this is over.” He chuckled.

“So how did you like it?” Eliott had walked up to them and looked down at them expectantly.

“I loved it, but I think Lucas is not convinced yet.” Claudine winked at Lucas. 

He smiled, slightly embarrassed. “It was cool to try it out, but I think I prefer a bit more action.”

“Ah, yes, it’s typically men who find it the hardest to surrender. I think this might have something to do with traditional gender roles.” He chuckled. “Actually, there is a lot of action going on during yin yoga, but it’s mental action… But it’s fine – I know yin yoga is not for everyone and everyone relaxes in a different way. If you want to give it a go again, maybe try it at home – the best time to profit from it is in the morning when your body is still stiff from sleep.” 

They ended up sitting on the steps outside again, sipping their ayurvedic tea from mismatched cups. Eliott rolled a cigarette and lit it, his cheeks hollowing out when he took the first drag. He exhaled the smoke with closed eyes and his head tilted back while Lucas was watching him, raptured. He had never been attracted to smokers, and how much Eliott taking a puff turned him on was ridiculous.

“So how was the concert?”, Lucas asked.

“I’m really sorry you didn’t come on Saturday. They were amazing!”

“Yeah, I’m a bit sad I missed it, but to be honest it was good to just go to bed early.” 

“I totally understand that. Have you already been allowed to see your Mum?”

“I went to see her yesterday, yes.”

“How is she?”

“She is fine, considering the circumstances. She will stay at the hospital for a couple of days because she needs to have a few consultations about the further treatment, but she’ll be home for her birthday.”

“That’s wonderful! I’m really happy for you. So your visit wasn’t that bad?”

“No, not at all, actually. I’m glad I went there. And she has been very supportive of my plans to move away from Paris.”

Eliott put an arm around Lucas’ shoulders and squeezed them affectionately.

“See, sometimes it’s good to trust that things will be ok.”

“You’re the second person to point that out. Yann and Basile said something similar today.”

“Maybe that means we have a point there?”

“Maybe. After all it’s spring now and the last day of school is only a few weeks away now.”

“Are you nervous?”

“It’s ok, I guess. But all that studying is really starting to wear me out. I haven’t done anything special this spring.”

“Like what?”

“Like going on a trip. Actually, do you remember that we talked about going to Versailles?“

“So that I can show you Marie Antoinette’s farm? Of course I remember!

“What about next weekend then? Are you free?”

“I have a class on Saturday morning, but if we leave around noon, it will be fine.”

“We could take a picnic, so we don’t have to buy anything overpriced.”

“Oh great, so I get to show off my cooking skills.” Eliott sounded enthusiastic.

“I’m better at providing drinks, I guess, but maybe I can get Manon to teach me how to bake something.”

"Amazing! So that's settled then. You bring drinks and cake, I'll take care of the rest. A trip will do me good, too, we're entering the really stressful phase with the mural now."

"Do you have a date for the vernissage now?"

"Yeah, it's the last Friday in June, so we will have to start painting the mural soon."

"Wow, the last Friday in June is after my last exams!"

"Bring all your friends to celebrate with us, then! There's going to be free drinks and we're also going to have a good DJ to party a little."

"That sounds cool! Free booze and good music will definitely convince them to come."

They sat on the steps and chatted about the mural and Lucas' exams until it was completely dark and got chilly, then tidied up the cups and remaining mats together and locked the studio. Severine and Lucille had left almost immediately after the yoga class, since they were used to Eliott and Lucas staying behind. Lucas enjoyed being the last person at the yoga studio, not just because he got to spend some time alone with Eliott - he believed that the quiet atmosphere helped him to relax and sleep. These calm evenings would be something he would sorely miss if he was going away to university. It was probably better for him not to get too attached to them and Eliott. But that didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy their friendship and his crush while it lasted. Lucas allowed himself to briefly close his eyes when he hugged Eliott goodbye and inhaled his familiar scent of leather, incense and cigarette smoke. He would collect these special moments spent with Eliott and store them in his memory, so that he would be able to recall them later, like some forgotten pictures that you found again in a box under your bed evoked memories of a childhood summer holiday long ago.


	9. Vega and Altair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trip to Versailles

It had become quiet at Versailles. They had entered at one of the main gates in the afternoon when it had still been quite busy, but now, hours later, they were sitting on the grass of a small clearing in one of the more remote areas of the Domaine, Marie-Antoinette’s former residence, resting their tired legs. 

The golden light of the setting sun seemed to set Eliott’s hair on fire, and the branches of the freshly leafed trees swaying in the evening breeze created a dancing pattern of light and shadow on his face. He looked stunning - almost like a creature from an ancient myth, Lucas thought, if it hadn’t been for the tattoos on his arms, the cigarette dangling from his lips and the edgy Japanese sneakers on his feet. 

The only things he could hear were birdsong and, very far away, the faint sound of traffic that reminded Lucas they were not actually in the countryside, but in fact a mere hour away from bustling inner Paris. He looked up and down the path they had walked to get here, but there was no one around.

“It almost seems like we are the only people still in the park.”

“That would be lovely!” 

Lucas looked at Eliott quizzically.

“Oh, I don’t know, I just love being alone in places that are usually crowded. I once spent a weekend at my school. They had forgotten to lock the art room, so I tried out all kinds of supplies that I didn’t get to use during classes and slept on the sofa in the library. On Monday everyone was surprised that I was on time, but nobody ever found out about it.” 

“Weren’t you scared?” 

“No, only of getting found out and being punished. The empty school was heavenly. So quiet, so much space for myself! The first night I pretended to be the arts teacher and made my imaginary students draw caricatures of the headmaster while I rested my feet on the teacher’s desk and drank beer.”

Lucas snorted. “For real?”

“Yeah, I know. But wouldn’t you like to stay in a place that you never have to yourself? Do stuff you would never do in the company of others?”

“I don’t know. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I probably would be scared all by myself. With somebody else it’s cool, but if I did it alone, probably every sound would creep me out.” 

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad. The only problem was that I couldn’t switch on the lights after dark because otherwise it would have been obvious that the school had a guest during the weekend. But I managed. Though it was hard to find the bathrooms in the dark. And I had to hide on Saturday morning, because our headmaster and some super-enthusiastic young teachers also came in for a few hours.”

Lucas suddenly had an idea. He sat up straight and looked at Eliott, grinning. 

“So it’s on?”

“What?”

“We’ll get ourselves locked in here and spend the night and you prove to me that you’re super brave and don’t get frightened?”

“Ah, I don’t know, probably you’ll be too chicken and come shouting for the guard once it’s dark.”

“You wish!” 

“It’s settled then.” Eliott looked at him with a mock-serious expression on his face and they shook hands, solemnly, while Lucas was biting the insides of his cheeks to stop himself from grinning like a lunatic.

“We need a strategy so we don’t get caught!”, he suggested.

“Well, I’d say we just keep off the main paths until the park is officially closed for the night, and then wait some more. Once it’s dark you can see the flashlights if there are any guards.”

“What if we get bored? It’s a long time until tomorrow!”

“We’ve brought a picnic. And I’ve got an idea! Let’s go to the little farm. Do you remember?”

Lucas chuckled and nodded, giddy about their plan.

“We can have a picnic on the lawn like the royal children.”

They spread out their plaid next to the pond of Marie-Antoinette’s fake farmers’ village and sat down for their feast. Lucas had managed to bake cheddar crackers and little lemon meringue tartelettes with Manon’s help (it had cost him two additional cleaning duties) and had also brought some cans of beer as well as a bottle of champagne. The cheapest one available at the supermarket because he was a broke student, but still champagne. Proudly, he produced his supplies from his backpack. 

“I’m impressed. But I don’t believe you made these tartelettes yourself.”

“I have proof,” Lucas announced in a blasé tone, and unlocked his phone to show him the video Mika had taken while Manon and Lucas had been baking the night before.

“What did you have to do to convince Manon to help you bake?”

“She doesn’t need to be convinced, everyone loves spending time with me,” Lucas replied and feigned being hurt by Eliott’s comment.

“It would be very impolite of me to say ‘I doubt that’, so I will shut up and show you what I brought for our royal picnic.”

Lucas threw a pinecone at him while Eliott was unpacking his backpack.  
He had brought fresh baguette, an assortment of different types of cheese as well as a basket of early strawberries.

“Excuse me, didn’t you brag about your cooking skills last week?”

“I didn’t want to impress you too much. Maybe next time, though.”

“Monsieur Demaury, I think you’re overestimating the influence your culinary abilities have on me.”

“Monsieur Lallement, don’t say that before you have tasted my cooking.” He proceeded to tear a piece of baguette off, spread some camembert on it and decorated it with a strawberry, then handed it to Lucas. 

“Here, try my canapé.”

“Ugh, cheese with strawberries, that’s disgusting.”

“Fruit and cheese is a classic, Lucas!”

“Sorry, no way I’m going to believe you now that you’re a good cook. I think you didn’t want to give away that you suck at cooking and that’s why you played it safe with the picnic classics: bread, cheese and fruit.”

Eliott took the piece of bread from Lucas again and ate it himself.

“You’re fo wong, ip’f belifiouf,” he insisted, his mouth still full.

“OK, I’ll try it,” Lucas conceded. “Make another one.”

Eliott prepared a small bite of baguette, cheese and strawberry for Lucas and put it on a paper napkin that looked like he had decorated it himself with a marker because it showed a raccoon and a hedgehog sitting on a blanket with a picnic basket in the middle. He used his palm as a tray for the canapé and held it in front of Lucas. 

“Monseigneur, a canapé with bread from the royal bakery, camembert from Normandy and strawberries from the Loire valley.”

Lucas took the piece of bread and shoved it in his mouth.

“Ip’f bifgufing,” Lucas mumbled while chewing, but ate the whole thing nonetheless.

“Ah, his manners, Monseigneur! The queen will not be amused if you speak with a full mouth at the table!”

“You do know that the Dauphin died at the age of 7, right?”

“You have some traits that remind me of a pre-schooler, to be honest, so I wouldn’t say the role doesn’t fit you.”

“If you go on like that, I won’t share the tartelettes and the champagne with you. After all, you’re the butler and I’m the heir to the throne, so watch your tone.”

The champagne, which they drank from the bottle because they both had forgotten to take cups or glasses, soon dulled their banter, and an hour later they lay sprawled out on the plush lawn, bellies too full to move. It was probably a bad idea to stay that close to the water. Eliott had already been bitten by several mosquitos, despite blowing smoke rings up. He insisted that it kept insects away, but Lucas had a growing suspicion that he just made them because he wanted to look cool. Which totally worked.

Lucas let himself fall backwards onto the grass and gazed at the sky that in the west was still a very faint orange fading into an intense blue fading into darkness. His head was slightly dizzy. 

“I think I can already see stars! You can hardly see stars in Paris normally.”

“Look, there’s Vega,” Eliott pointed out.

“Where? I don’t know shit about astronomy.”

Eliott lay down next to Lucas, and snuggled so close their shoulders were touching. Lucas felt the cosy warmth of Eliott, who stretched out an arm and pointed towards the sky, and shivered.

“Do you see Cassiopeia? The small W?” 

“Yeah, I do.” 

“OK, so go up quite a bit from the right corner, and then a little further to the right then. There’s a really bright star. That’s Vega.”

“I think I’ve got it.” 

“Do you know the story of Vega and Altair? The two lovers that broke the rules of the Gods?”

“No, I’ve never heard about them.”

“Well, there once was a young boy called Altair. His parents were dead and he struggled to survive by working as a cowherd and a crofter. One day he met Vega, a beautiful young woman who had previously worked as a weaver and seamstress for the Gods. Both fell in love with each other and Vega decided to come and live with Altair. They were happy together, despite the hardship of their life. They were young and so in love that they soon started to neglect their duties. When the Emperor of the Sky heard about their laziness, he got angry. He asked the Empress of the Sky to separate the lovers and to bring the weaver back to the Gods."

“Because the cowherd loved her so much, he followed her, but the Empress drew a river in the sky, thus making it impossible for Altair to get to Vega. They cried so desperately that the magpies were moved by their sorrow. Thus, the birds formed a bridge, so that Altair and Vega could cross the milky way that separated them. When the Empress saw this, she felt pity, and that’s why they are allowed to meet once a year, on the day of Tanabata, the seventh day of the seventh month. It usually rains on that day, because the two lovers cry so much when they see each other again.”

“Wow, that’s super sad.”

“Yes, it’s quite tragic, but I think it’s a beautiful tale. And it’s also a story of compassion – the goddess was so moved by their love that she made it possible for them to meet again.”

“But they can only be together one day a year!” Lucas argued.

“Yes, but they are immortal now – so they will have more days together than they would have had if they had stayed on earth.”

“OK, true. Though being lonely and miserable on 364 days a year is terrible. There’s so much sorrow, and so little joy. I guess if I was one of them, I would just be miserable on the day we get to meet because I know it’s way too short.”

“I agree, but maybe it’s more about the quality of time that you spend with each other than the quantity? So maybe they are so happy on that one night that this makes up for the rest? I guess I’d rather take that one night than miss it. Wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it would be too painful and I would be better off without it.”

“Yeah, I think it’s about how much you’re willing to endure. But for Altair and Vega, I believe their love is too strong to just give it up, and that’s the uplifting part of the story for me.”

“So now that I’ve seen Vega I also want to see Altair.”

“You can’t see it in spring. You need to wait until summer to be able to see it.”

“We need to come again in summer then!”

“Definitely, but we would need to go to some place where we can see the milky way too, so you can see that they are indeed separated by a river.”

“Where would that be, then?”

“I don’t know, a really dark place, either at the seaside or high up in the mountains.”

“We could go on another trip. I’ve wanted to do something in summer anyway.”

“Sounds like a good plan. We could celebrate your bac with travelling. I never got to do it, and I’m a bit sad I didn’t have that opportunity.” 

Even though the dew had started seeping through the plaid they were lying on and the air was chilly, Lucas felt warm and fuzzy. Maybe it was from the champagne they had drunk, but probably mainly because of Eliott’s company and closeness. He breathed deeply into his belly, like Eliott had taught him, and felt his lungs expand. This was the best night he had had in a long time, and now there was the prospect of them spending a holiday together. Life looked a lot more promising than a few months ago. But that was all in the future, and he wanted to focus on the present. He turned his head to take in the nocturnal atmosphere of the park: the dark silhouettes of the trees against the starry sky, the hoots of an owl, a dancing light in the distance - wait a minute. Lucas sat up abruptly. 

“Shit, do you see that?,” Lucas whispered.

“What? Do you want to scare me? That doesn’t work.” Eliott chuckled confidently.

“No, for real. Look to the right – can you see the flashlight?”

Eliott turned his head.

“Fuck, it’s probably a guard. We need to hide.”

“Where? Behind the house?”

“No, that’s probably where he’ll go and check.”

“What about that tree?”

“That could work. Let’s hurry, I’ll hide under it and you tell me if you can still see me.”

Next to the pond, the drooping branches of a huge weeping willow nearly touched the ground, creating a coveted place to hide. Eliott crouched down and crawled into the small space between the foliage of the tree and its trunk. 

Lucas approached the willow, closely examining the spot where Eliott had disappeared behind the branches.

“The moonlight is shining on your shoes, you need to stand closer to the trunk so you’re in the shadow.” 

Eliott’s movement created a rustling sound.

“Shhh, try to be quieter. OK, now I can’t see you anymore.”

“Great, get in here, Lucas. The guard is not going to take forever till he gets here.”

“Wait, I need to get our bags and the plaid.”

“OK, but make it quick.”

“Chill, Eliott, he’s still quite far away, and his vision is limited to the space his flashlight can reach.”

Lucas quietly walked back to their spot on the grass, threw the bags onto the plaid and collected the corners of it to make everything into a bundle. 

When Eliott heard Lucas approaching he said, “I’m impressed. You’re quite cold-blooded for the fact that this is your first night in the park.”

Lucas handed him his backpack, slung the strap of his own over his shoulder and peered into the dark space. He could just make out Eliott’s silhouette.

“What? You thought I’d get scared?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a little.” He sounded almost disappointed.

“Ah, but what good would that have done?”

“I would have had to protect you.”

“Mh, I see.” 

“Now, even if you’re not scared, you need to get inside here, too. Your sneakers.” He pointed to Lucas’ feet. He had a point. White sneakers were probably not the best choice when trying to stay undetected in the dark. Lucas walked closer to the tree and pressed his body and the plaid against the opposite side of the trunk, which was so wide that he couldn’t see Eliott anymore.

“No, not there. The branches don’t reach as low on that side of the tree. When he walks around it, he’ll see you. You need to stand on my side, too.”

“OK.” Lucas carefully stepped around on Eliott’s side.

“You have to come closer, you told me before that you could see my shoes when I was standing there.”

Eliott widened his stance.

“Come here. You can stand between my legs.” Lucas followed Eliott’s advice, and because the plaid was an uncomfortable lump between their stomachs, he carefully unfolded it and wrapped it around them. Their legs were pressed together now, and so was the rest of them. It felt almost impossibly cosy. Lucas wasn’t sure whether his heart was beating with fear of being discovered by the guard or mainly because Eliott was so close. 

“You know that if he has a dog, we’re fucked”, Lucas whispered, trying to distract himself.

“Yeah, I hope he doesn’t have one.”

They were quiet for a moment, then Eliott asked, “Can you see him?”

“Yes, he’s coming closer. He’s currently walking towards the house.”

“See, I told you he would go and check there.”

“What do you think will happen if he catches us?”

“Nothing, he’ll throw us out, probably – I don’t think he’ll call the police, at least not the first time.”

“OK.”

“But I’d regret if this night ended like that.”

“What do you think we would miss?”

Eliott put his finger on Lucas’ lips, as they could see the light dancing on the grass between the lake and the house now. The guard was coming closer.  
They stared at each other, with wide eyes, and even though Lucas’ heart was beating like it wanted to jump out of his chest, looking into Eliott’s face, soft and open, almost made him forget why they were hiding. He could feel Eliott’s breath on his face, and leaned a little closer.

“There’s something I would regret if he catches us,” he whispered.

“What is it?”, Eliott asked, smiling at him.

“Not having done this,” Lucas replied, and then he stood on his toes, and kissed Eliott. It was a short kiss, full of restraint despite all the affection he wanted to express with it, and Lucas didn’t wait for any reaction from Eliott before he pulled back. He didn’t dare to look at Eliott.

“You’re full of surprises, Lucas,” Eliott whispered, then brought his arms up to Lucas’ back and pulled him into his chest, very carefully cupped Lucas' face with his hands and lifted his chin to kiss him back. Eyes closed, Lucas leaned into the kiss. He had never been kissed like that, or maybe he had, but it had never felt like that. Like he was really wanted, and like he really wanted the person he was kissing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst is coming, but for now I wanted to end this chapter on a happy note. So I hope you like it.
> 
> Also: Two chapters in a day - I can hardly believe it myself! I've had chapters 8 and 9 almost finished for days and wanted to get each of them out as soon as I had edited them for the last time.
> 
> I loved writing this chapter- it was such a hard, and also important one. It took me months to figure out where they would kiss for the first time, but I had the idea for Vega and Altair very early on and wanted to include it in the story. And luckily the idea to let them do stargazing in Versailles led to the idea of a guard interrupting. 
> 
> Come and chat with me on Tumblr if you like - I'm @summersinpuglia there. <3


	10. The Association

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the night at Versailles, and an unexpected Wednesday night

Lucas was woken by birdsong and something tickling his face, probably a strand of his hair. Still sleepy, he wanted to brush it away. When his hand touched something small and creepy that fell to the ground and quickly crawled away, he let out a short scream, then blinked several times and sat up, puzzled – until he remembered. He was still at the park. He and Eliott had fallen asleep huddled together under their plaid beneath the tree last night, after whispering and laughing and kissing each other sore. 

His lips felt dry and overly sensitive, and the fact that Eliott was not lying next to him anymore, warming him, meant that instead the damp and cool air was seeping through the plaid he had curled up in. He got up, groaning because his body was stiff and hurting. When he looked around for Eliott, he found him sitting just a few metres away from him, at the edge of the pond. He was sketching, and Lucas watched him for a few minutes, not wanting to disturb him. A few leaves and twigs were stuck in Eliott’s hair, a light stubble had emerged on his chin and his jacket had some dirty, wet patches on the back. He looked beautiful, and there was something wild, but also very peaceful about him as Lucas watched him draw lines with a steady hand. He was sketching the small building at the opposite side of the pond, a beautiful, romanticised farmhouse with a thatched roof.

Lucas pondered how to approach Eliott while he was walking to a row of bushes where he hoped to be able to pee without being seen by early-morning joggers at the park. Should he hug or kiss him? But he wasn’t sure whether or not Eliott regretted what had happened. Should he just say “Good morning”? It was probably best to act cheerful and chill, so even if Eliott felt weird about last night, he wouldn’t embarrass him.

In the end, after he had finished his undisturbed pee, he decided to simply sit down next to Eliott. Still uncertain about what to say first, he looked at the water, hoping for Eliott to break the silence.  
“Good morning,” Eliott said. He sounded relaxed, and a wave of relief washed over Lucas.

“Good morning. We made it! The guards didn’t find us.”

“And how do you feel after your first night in your new life as a trespasser?”

“Quite good, actually. Though next time we should choose a place with more comfortable sleeping options.”

“Remind me, how old are you again?”

“18, but I’m a city boy. My back is not used to spending the night under a tree.”

“Damn, those spoilt Parisians.”

“Speaking of spoilt - I’m pretty hungry. Do we have anything left to eat?”

“Maybe some baguette and cheese in my backpack. I can’t remember if we ate everything or not, though.”

Lucas got up to check.

The bread was cold and damp, and the cheese looked a lot less appetizing now – but Lucas couldn’t stomach the idea of cheese for breakfast anyway, so he just tore off a piece of baguette and took a bite. It was chewy and tasted like paper, but it felt better to have something inside his stomach.

He carried the remaining food to the pond and sat down again, offering Eliott a piece of bread.

“The cheese has almost dissolved into a puddle, but there are still a few strawberries left. Maybe you can dip the berries into the cheese.”

“Lucas, it’s eight in the morning - please don’t suggest cheese with berries for breakfast!”

“Excuse me, if I remember correctly, last night you tried to sell strawberries and camembert to me as a “match made in heaven”!”

Eliott laughed, but after a moment grew serious and quiet. 

“Lucas, about last night.”

“It’s alright. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“But I want to talk about it.”

“Oh, okay.”

“I – um, it was really lovely, last night, and I enjoyed myself very much. But I think I shouldn’t have kissed you. I like you very much, but… I don’t want to get your hopes up. At the moment, I’m not in the place for a serious relationship. I would hate to ruin our friendship that way.”

Lucas didn’t know what to say. Of course Eliott’s words stung, but if he was entirely honest, it was what he had expected. It would have been too much to ask for anything more – he still couldn’t believe that he had gotten to kiss Eliott. He had never imagined being in a relationship with him was realistic. 

He shrugged, avoiding looking into Eliott’s eyes, trying to sound as casual and unaffected as possible. 

“It’s fine, I’m not looking for something serious either. After all I’m probably moving away anyway, so there’s really no point in trying to start a relationship now.”

Eliott nodded, and after a short pause added, tentatively, “I also don’t think we should just hook up, you know? These things usually end up hurting somebody.”

“But we’re still friends?”

“Of course we’re friends, you idiot! I’m so glad you found your way to the yoga studio and we met”, Eliott replied warmly. 

On the way home to Paris Lucas asked about Eliott's mural, and Eliott explained their latest ideas excitedly. It was good to see Eliott happy, but it took everything Lucas had in him to fake enthusiasm about it when he really just wanted to be alone as soon as possible. As they said goodbye, Eliott hugged Lucas tightly, but Lucas felt himself stiffen in Eliott’s embrace.

He was in a weird mood in the days afterwards. On the one hand, despite the fact that he had never wanted to get his hopes up, he was devastated that Eliott didn’t want to have a relationship. Something in the back of his head whispered “it was just an excuse. He doesn’t want a relationship with YOU – he just didn’t want to tell you the truth because he didn’t want to hurt you.” But on the other hand, he was still high on the feeling of kissing Eliott.

At school, Lucas evaded questions about his weekend, and once again explained his moodiness with the fact that he was worried about not getting enough studying done. He almost believed it himself, the final weeks at school were extraordinarily stressful - but he hadn't been able to focus on studying, let alone on worrying about not studying after Saturday night. But stressing out about school was the perfect excuse - everyone could relate, noone asked stupid questions. Thus, he also texted Eliott he had to cram this week and wouldn't make it to his yoga class. Eliott replied with a crying emoji and wished him a good week. At least he wasn't acting weird, Lucas thought. It was bad enough that Lucas didn't know how to deal with Eliott after last weekend. But with some time, he hoped, things would eventually be back to normal between them.

On Wednesday night, after they had had dinner together at the colloc, Mika declared: “I’m going out tonight, I guess none of you want to join me, right?”

“Actually, I do, Mika.”

“Party on a weekday? That’s odd! I need to warn you though, it’s a party for homosexuals.”

Lucas rolled his eyes.

“I guessed so. Don’t annoy me, or I’ll change my mind.”

“Well then, chaton – be ready in half an hour and expect to be amazed.”

They went to a student night at the lgbtq association, where Mika had recently started a coming-out group. For that reason he was greeted by a lot of people, who also seemed to assume that Lucas was his boyfriend. 

“He’s just the annoying flatmate,” Mika clarified with a wink.

Thirty minutes later, after Lucas had been introduced to half the crowd by Mika and had kissed about three or four dozen cheeks, they found themselves alone again sitting at the bar.

“So how do you like your first queer party?”

“It’s alright, I guess.”

“Not worried about guys flirting with you?”

“No. Um, actually, about that…”

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember Eliott?”

“Of course. The hot yoga teacher.”

“Well, so we kissed.”

Mika’s eyes widened and he started to smile. With renewed interest, he leaned forward on his bar stool.

“When he stayed at our apartment?”

“No. He came over because I – I freaked out after my mum had gone missing, and then he stayed the night because he didn’t want to leave me alone.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Yeah. He’s really caring. Nothing happened then, though. We kissed last Saturday, when we went to Versailles. We stayed in the park at night. But the next morning he said he’s not looking for something serious right now.”

“That’s a valid wish, Lucas.”

“He doesn’t want to hook up, either. He said he doesn’t want to risk our friendship. But I don’t know…”

“Mh, okay – maybe he’s just not the type for hook-ups? It might seem rare, but there are people that are not into sex without feelings. And assuming that he knows you like him, the fear of destroying your friendship if you hook up is justified.”

“But still – why did he kiss me? Just out of pity because I kissed him first?”

A surprised and proud smile played across Mika’s face.

“My brave Lucas! Why do you think that? How did he react to the kiss?”

“He kissed me back, and then we kissed for hours, I think, until we fell asleep.”

“You don’t kiss someone you’re not into for hours out of pity. Is he out?”

“I think so.” 

“Maybe he just isn’t in the right place for a relationship right now – maybe he got out of a relationship recently, he has other stuff he wants to focus on… There really are many reasons.”

“He is super stressed about this art project he’s doing with two other students. Maybe that's the reason - but it’s better anyway. I’d prefer getting a boyfriend when I’m not in Paris anymore.”

“So you’ve made up your mind about leaving Paris?”

“Yeah, I’d like to start from scratch.”

“But going to university is like starting from scratch. I’m not meeting anyone from lycée anymore unless I want to, you know?”

Lucas stared into his drink.

“I’m just guessing here, Lucas – but is this whole leaving Paris thing about having an excuse for not being able to see le gang so often so you can keep your old and your new life separate? Do you want to lie to them about who you date?”

“Not telling them is not lying. Besides, I feel it is so suffocating.”

“What is suffocating, Lucas?”

“These expectations and assumptions. That I’m straight, and cool, and can handle difficult stuff like with my mother. But I’m freaking out inside, Mika.”

“I think I know how you feel, my dear, at least about the being gay and surrounded by hets part. But look at it this way: if you never tell them, they won’t have the opportunity to learn that there are queer people everywhere, and that they look like everyone. Even in the dumbest gang at lycée, even with horrible taste in fashion.”

Lucas softly kicked Mika in the shin.

“Fuck, Lucas! What’s that for?”

“Because you’re the most annoying flatmate ever.”

“I’m personally offended you don’t want to take my fashion advice. It’s my duty to try and educate baby gays about style.”

“I will tell them that I’m – that I won’t date girls anymore eventually. I just feel like I need to have more time to figure things out about myself.”

“OK, I get that. But let me promise you: You get to lead the life of your dreams in Paris, too. Look: we could be in any other city here – but if you didn’t know me, you would have had to go to a queer party by yourself, and even if you had mustered up the courage to actually go into the club, you would probably stand in the corner and be intimidated, like that poor guy over there. He’s been standing there for at least half an hour now, and I’m pretty sure coming here is huge for him.”

“Maybe.”

“So shall we talk to him? Or do you want to watch him leave because either nobody talks to him or someone terrifies him by hitting on him?”

“Mika!”

“I’ve seen that happen countless times. Don’t tell me you would be cool with a complete stranger offering you a drink and wanting to make out with you. Kissing a boy you’ve become friends and fallen in love with is a lot easier than being so comfortable with your sexuality that you hook up with a stranger the first time you go to a queer party, all by yourself. Especially if you’re still in the closet. I still remember how you freaked out when I showed you the nude pictures on my Grindr account.”

“OK, OK, let’s do it - for all the Lucas’ who are currently at a gay bar for the first time and would love to see a friendly face that talks to him.”

“I knew there was a big heart hidden underneath that grumpiness,” Mika said and beamed at him, affectionately rubbing his arm. “Let’s go. At least he won’t be intimidated by your outfit.”

The lonely guy’s name was Philippe. He had moved to Paris from Bretagne for work four months ago. It was, indeed, the first time he had come to the gay association’s party. 

“It’s not the first time, actually. I’ve been wanting to come for two months, but I never made it inside.” He chuckled, and Lucas was impressed by Philippe’s honesty.

“The last time I just stood on the opposite side of the street for an hour, envious of the people who entered the building without throwing nervous glances around. Then I went home and got mad at me. I mean, I’ve moved to Paris to start a new life and not hide who I am anymore.”

“I’m the leader of a small coming-out group that meet here at the association once a week – it’s mostly secondary school and university students, but you could always join. You’d get to know more people apart from me and my babyfaced flatmate, who is currently very occupied by studying for the bac and by being hopelessly in love with a boy who doesn’t want a relationship.”

Lucas shrugged and smiled a lopsided smile. 

“Commiserations”, Philippe said. “At least about the “being hopelessly in love” part. Been there back home when I was in love with my best friend for the biggest part of secondary school.”

“Thanks, it really sucks,” Lucas replied, and wondered if being in love with your best friend was a universal experience for gays, or just a weird coincidence, but then they were interrupted by Mika handing them shots. Somehow, he had managed to slip away to the bar and return with shots of sambuca within a few seconds. They drank to meeting on this Wednesday night, and afterwards Mika even convinced them to dance to a Lady Gaga song, which he insisted was a “gay initiation ceremony”.

The party ended around midnight. It was just a weekday soirée that didn’t go all night, unlike the infamous parties at the lgbtq centre, to which they absolutely had to come soon, Mika said. 

“There are so many gorgeous boys, you will love it!” 

They walked to the metro with Philippe, promised each other to hang out together soon and exchanged numbers and Instagram handles. Lucas tried to convince Mika to walk home, but there was a light drizzle and Mika said he didn’t want to ruin his new shoes. Any other day he would have started a debate with Mika about his laziness (he wore sneakers that looked very water-resistant to Lucas, and the ground was barely wet), but he was so grateful that night that he just agreed to take the metro with Mika.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being AWOL for so long, and also for the quick regression into angst... The next chapters are somewhat transitional, but I think they are extremely important for Lucas and also for Eliott.
> 
> I've been wanting to explore more of Mika's character and the advice he might have to offer to Lucas. (I can imagine him leading a coming out group so well.) 
> 
> Anyway, I'm happy to be back and look forward to your comments and thoughts! <3 
> 
> Nov 5, 2020: Minor edit to fix timeline
> 
> Come find me @summersinpuglia on Tumblr!


	11. Yann

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Jeanne's birthday party and there is an unexpected guest. Lucas and Yann spend time together, and Lucas makes an important decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter gets angsty towards the end. This was a super difficult one for me to write, as it's somehow transitional and was not included in my initial planning. That's why it took me so long to complete it. Finally, I'm pretty happy with the result, even though Eliott makes no appearance here. Sorry to all of you who are impatiently waiting for him to return - it will be a while, I'm afraid. After all, this is Lucas' story and his character development. (If I feel motivated, though, I might write parts of the story from Eliott's POV once the fic is finished. I guess it might be interesting and there are a few things I had in mind that I feel would be wasted if they're just backstory. But we'll see...)
> 
> Some minor edits for context/clarification and to remove typos on January 17.
> 
> As always, I'll be delighted if you leave a comment! You can also come talk to me on Tumblr, I'm @summersinpuglia. Hope you had a good start of 2021 despite the pandemic! <3

Everyone around Lucas seemed to be freaking out about the approaching exams. The term had been passing so quickly, and in not even two months school would be over forever. Even the usually laid-back Basile had suddenly started to post selfies from the school library. Lucas suspected that it was just partly because he wanted to study in earnest, but really because he wanted to make a good impression on Daphné. Her snide remark that Basile had to “pass his bac and start acting like a grown-up” before she would consider going on a date with him had hurt him deeply, although he had tried to hide it. 

But Lucas had also been disciplined and studied every evening. It was both necessary and helped him to get his mind off Eliott, who had written to him that he would take a break from giving yoga lessons because there was so much work to do for the mural. That meant that Lucas could safely go to the studio without having to face Eliott in public with all of his emotions playing out on his face, and was finally able to completely focus on his own movements and his breath. 

But still, it wasn’t the same when Lucille gave the lessons. He was so used to Eliott’s soft, gentle voice now, to the way he silently placed a palm on Lucas’ lower back to show him that his spine was not completely straight, the calm instructions he gave them during Savasana, and, finally, to sitting next to Eliott in the courtyard in front of the studio after everyone else had left, drinking tea, watching Eliott blow smoke rings into the air and chatting about what was going on in their lives. 

Lucas’ scarce free time and Eliott’s absence at the yoga studio meant that he went there less often. The little leisure time that remained besides lessons and studying was spent for meals with his flatmates, doing sun salutations in the mornings, a short meditation practice every evening and doing research online for recipes. He had promised his mother to bake a cake for her birthday next Saturday, and he wanted to surprise her with something special. 

Because Lucas wasn’t sure he would be able to pull it off on his own, he asked Manon if she could assist him with his creation. When he told her about what he had in mind, her face lit up. “Count me in. It is quite ambitious, but it will definitely work. Your mum will be delighted.”

Very early on Saturday morning a very tired Lucas switched off the alarm on his phone, feeling slightly disoriented. Not being able to go to sleep early he had stayed up too late, once again googling constellations and reading up on Vega and Altair, fascinated by the stories and myths surrounding astronomy. 

Still yawning, he put on sweatpants, a hoodie and sneakers and left the apartment to buy croissants at the bakery. When he returned, Manon was already up, brewing coffee. Both of them sleepy and not able to talk a lot, they had breakfast together. Finally, the caffeine and sugar helped to lift their spirits. 

While Lucas did the dishes, Manon was already weighing and measuring ingredients for the dough. When he had finished, he turned to her for further instructions. She taught him how to make choux pastry by heating milk, water and butter before stirring in flour and, finally, eggs. Together, they piped and baked about 200 tiny profiteroles. 

After they had cooled, they filled them with his mum’s favourite flavours of crème patissière and whipped cream - caramel, vanilla and hazelnut – glazed them with caramel, milk and dark chocolate and finally assembled them to form an impressive cake tower held together by more caramel and chocolate. Lucas couldn’t believe the cake had been successfully finished, and if he was completely honest, he would never have managed without Manon’s help.

After they had cleaned up the kitchen and carefully put the cake into a box together, Lucas hugged Manon tightly. “You’re the best. It looks like something you’d pay 150 euros for at Pierre Hermé. Are you really sure you want to go to ENS? I’m sure you could make a living out of baking.”

Manon beamed at him. “Funny that you mention it – I’ve recently thought that I would love to bake as a part-time job. And who knows, if I find out that political journalism isn’t my thing anymore after a few years, then maybe I’ll just publish baking books.” 

“Or open a cute little bakery like that one up on the hill in Montmartre. I promise I would buy all my cakes from you!” 

She laughed and kissed his cheek. “You’re so sweet!” She was about to leave the kitchen but then stopped like she had forgotten something and turned around. “You know, Lucas, I’m really glad you came to live with us. And I’m happy you seem to be better now.”

Lucas swallowed hard. “Thank you, Manon. I really am better. And I’m glad I live with you, too.” A tear threatened to force its way out of the corner of his eye, and he blinked frantically to stop it, turning away from Manon to hide his watery eyes. “OK, I really need to get a shower now, or I’ll be late.” 

At two in the afternoon, Lucas rang the bell to his mother’s apartment, smelling of one of Mika’s fancy perfumes. He wore a light-blue button-up as well as his best pair of jeans. Jeanne opened the door and immediately wrapped him in the longest hug he had ever received from her. He hadn’t even managed to wish her "happy birthday" before he was crushed against her, and thus whispered the words into her ear.

It was a beautiful day, mild and sunny. Lucas was surprised by how light and airy his mother’s apartment looked. Jeanne led him into the living-room which he had remembered much gloomier, to the point at which the dark furniture and the dully coloured paintings seemed oppressive and made him feel uncomfortable, but the last time he had been here had been on a desolate winter afternoon and his mother hadn’t been well.

Now, the windows to the tiny balcony overlooking a small square stood wide open, letting in light, warm air, and the voices of chatting customers from the café below. Spring was in full swing, and even Paris smelled of fresh foliage and flowers.

He carefully put the giant box containing the croquembouche on a sideboard, next to an array of macarons, cute little finger sandwiches and scones. When he lifted the lid off the box, Jeanne let out a scream of surprise and clapped her hands.

“Lucas, oh my God – I didn’t know my son was a pâtissier.”

“Well, he isn’t, but his roommate is almost a pâtissière. Without Manon I would have brought a mess of cream and chocolate, so she deserves all the credit.”

“Do you think she would like it if I invited her over for dinner or tea to thank her some time?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“Great! Maybe you can ask her when she’ll be free – we could do it after your exams, to celebrate together!” She smiled at him, eyes shining. 

Lucas was relieved. She seemed much more relaxed and rested than she had been in a long time, and she looked beautiful. She wore a simple but elegant sleeveless ocean blue dress with contrasting trims in green and yellow. Her hair had been put up in a loose bun.

“Mum, has anyone told you that you look amazing? That colour really suits you.” 

“Thank you, Lucas. I bought this dress last week – at first I thought I didn’t need a new dress for my birthday, but then I decided why not? Summer is around the corner, too, so I’ll wear it a lot.”

Together, they prepared coffee and tea, carried milk and cream to the round table in the middle of the living-room and then everything was ready.

“Let’s have a cup of coffee before the other guests arrive, cheri!” 

They sat down at the table. It had been covered with a beautiful tablecloth, his mum’s favourite - her grandmother had painstakingly decorated it with a trim of hand-crocheted lace in her youth, and it had always been reserved for special occasions. A giant bouquet of peonies sat in a vase in the middle of the table, a fragrant burst of pale pink, rose, magenta and cream. 

Lucas was surprised to also find their beautiful antique gold-rimmed china laid out on the table in front of him. 

“I asked your father if he minded giving it to me as a birthday present. For a long time I thought I didn’t want it anymore because it reminded me so much of our old life… But it’s a shame no one used it anymore and I’ve always really liked it. So now I have breakfast and tea from it almost every day if I don’t mind doing the dishes by hand.”

Lucas could see why his father had agreed to give up the china. Vincent’s new wife had a distinctly modern taste, and on top of that she was not very keen on eating off of plates he had bought on a flea market with his ex-wife. He took another sip of coffee and let his gaze wander around the room.

The sunlight that streamed in through the open windows lit up the walls, and against this brilliant backdrop the dark wooden cupboard and the small oil paintings depicting landscapes and peasant scenes appeared very elegant. His mother had always had a talent for interior decoration, and even though a lot of the furniture and paintings came from thrift stores, they looked much more expensive than they had been. To Lucas’ surprise, a few modern paintings had been added to the walls – swirls of colour, each mixing different shades of one or two of the same colours together. One of hypnotizing blues, another one mixing bright and dark greens, the third one hues of white, pink and burgundy, like an abstract version of the bouquet in front of him.

When he asked his mother about them, she proudly announced that she had made the paintings. 

“My psychiatrist asked me if I would like to try out art therapy and I agreed. I’ve always wanted to draw and paint realistic scenes although I’m not very good at it, but the therapist encouraged me to just play with colours – I’ve never been so happy with anything I’ve painted before! Other people from my group have even asked me to make a painting for them.”

“They are really great, maman! When I get a flat of my own, I want a painting like that for the living-room.”

“I’m sure this can be arranged.” Jeanne smiled and winked. 

The guests started to arrive around three, and soon neighbours, friends, and acquaintances from art therapy filled the room. When the doorbell rang again and Jeanne was busy unpacking a present from her neighbours, Lucas answered the door instead, and was surprised to find Yann standing in front of him. 

“Mec, what are you doing here?” 

“Your mum invited me!”

Jeanne had always liked Yann (apart from the time she started to suspect that Yann had introduced Lucas to weed (in fact it had been Lucas who had first suggested trying it), so Lucas shouldn’t have been surprised. But he hadn’t expected his mother to actually invite his best friend to her birthday party. He was happy to see Yann, but also slightly worried Jeanne had asked Yann to come because she wanted to find out how Lucas was really doing. It was probably mean of him to be suspicious about her intentions, yet he couldn’t help to find the invitation a bit odd. 

When they carried dirty dishes to the kitchen and were alone for a moment, Lucas stopped his best friend from returning to the living room and said: “If my mum asks you about me, don’t tell her anything about my sleeping problems, Yann!”

“Lucas, of course I won’t tell her. But do you think I would tell her something she doesn’t know yet?”

“I don’t know. Probably not, I guess? But anyway, I don’t want her to worry, especially now that I sleep better.”

“So yoga really has helped?”

“Yeah, I think so. And even when I can’t sleep now, I can still do some breathing exercises that help me to calm down.”

“That’s cool! If I have trouble sleeping, I’ll ask you for advice. By the way – how is Eliott?”

Lucas felt a blush creep up on his face, and quickly replied: “Good, I think? I haven’t seen him for a few days. He’s quite busy with the mural, but he has promised we will all be invited to the party when it’s unveiled. It’s on Saturday after our last exams.”. He suddenly felt the urge to tell Yann about Eliott, but this wasn’t the right time and place.

“Wow, a vernissage, that’s so cool! There will probably be lots of hot art students. God, I can’t wait for school to be over, you know. Though I’m gonna miss seeing you guys every day.”

Maybe there was something else he could talk about with Yann. He already had Mika’s perspective on it, but maybe Yann saw it differently.

“What would you do if you received two university offers, and one of them is in Paris, the other one in, let’s say Marseille?”

“I would stay here. Here’s where my family and friends are, and I love Paris. Even if we won’t see each other every day, I would still hope to see your annoying face more often than twice a year.”

“I’m not so sure I’ll stay in Paris.”

“What? Why? Are you afraid you won’t get an offer here?”

Lucas chuckled. “At the moment I’m afraid I won’t get an offer at all. No, but I mean it. If I get offers and am able to choose, I will maybe challenge myself and move away from Paris.”

“Oh, Lucas, don’t you think university will be challenging enough? I mean, you don’t have to make things harder for you, you know? You’ve got a pretty great flatshare, and even if Manon moves away for school – though I doubt it – you’d easily be able to find a new flatmate!” 

“Yeah, somehow I’ve been hearing this a few times now.”

“I mean, Paris is the biggest city in France, so you can simply move to a different arrondissement and will feel like you live in a different place.”

“Here you two are!”

They turned towards the kitchen door, where Jeanne was standing, crossing her arms in front of her chest, trying for a serious expression on her face but failing. 

“Come back to the living-room, I invited you to celebrate my birthday with me, not to do the dishes. We’ve just opened the bottle of champagne Mathieu brought over.”

Yann’s eyes widened. “Did you say champagne? Count me in!” He dropped the sponge into the basin, wiped his wet hands on his t-shirt and put his arm around Jeanne’s shoulders on their way out of the kitchen. “I must say it has its benefits to be invited to grown ups’ birthdays.” Lucas chuckled and shook his head, threw the damp tea towel over the back of a kitchen chair and followed them. 

The party ended around six in the evening. Mathieu and his girlfriend Simone stayed behind to tidy up the kitchen, while Jeanne was saying goodbye to her guests. Yann and Lucas had collected empty glasses, cups and plates from almost every room of the apartment, removed the tablecloth now stained with coffee, champagne and crumbs, filled a trash bag with paper napkins and wrapping paper. Lucas even didn’t mind, which surprised him a lot, but Jeanne eventually told them to stop. 

“We’ve got the rest now, boys, you can leave. I guess there’s some place you want to be on a warm Saturday evening, after all you’re young. Even I might go out later with Mathieu, Simone and a friend from therapy. And don’t pretend there’s no place you’d rather be, I know when you’re lying, son.” She winked at him. 

She really was radiating with happiness tonight, Lucas thought. 

Jeanne wrapped him in a tight embrace. “Lucas, thank you for the gorgeous cake. Everyone loved it. I’ll try my best to bake you a cake for your graduation party, but I can’t promise I will be able to do something as impressive as yours.”

“Oh mum, you know I just want your famous tarte au chocolat, and nothing else!”

Lucas put his head on his mother’s shoulder for a short time. He was suddenly on the brink of crying. Maybe out of happiness and thankfulness over spending an unexpectedly nice afternoon at the party, talking to Yann, but also to his mother’s neighbours and friends. But probably mostly out of relief because his mother had enjoyed herself so much. It had been a long time since he had seen her like that, and watching his mum today had almost felt like seeing Jeanne before the depression had first hit – cheerful, funny, enjoying hosting a party and being the centre of attention. 

“It was a really lovely party, Maman! I hope you got to enjoy it as well and you didn’t find it stressful.”

“Oh Lucas, don’t worry – I loved it, and I wanted it to be busy. Even though I will probably need a week to recover after so much social interaction today.” She smiled. “Remember to ask Manon about that dinner!”

“Sure, I will.” She kissed him on the cheek and then turned towards Yann.

“Yann, it was such a pleasure to see you again! And thanks for the beautiful flowers.”

“You’re welcome, Mme Lallemant. The pleasure was all mine, for an afternoon party it was surprisingly cool!” 

They all laughed. Jeanne gave Yann bises and then added, “Please call me Jeanne, will you? After all you’re almost family.” 

Because it was Saturday and since they hadn’t spent time together for a while now, Yann and Lucas decided to walk to a metro station further away, so they could have a beer at a bar before they parted ways.

“Your mum seems really great.”

“I just hope it’s not just a temporary high, you know? I’m so careful with getting my hopes up after what has happened. She seemed better, and then she had this weird thing happening to her.”

“Yeah, that was really scary. But she seems to have a good support system now.”

“That’s true. She has started a different form of therapy after her sudden amnesia, and maybe this will help.”

“And maybe even if things are shit sometimes, she will be better. She has always recovered, even from that dark period when your dad left.”

“Yeah, but that was a horrible time.”

Yann nodded sympathetically, and after a brief pause asked, “By the way – have you been in touch with your dad lately?”

“Not really. I try to talk to him as little as possible. It’s just questions about school and university, and him bragging about his career, his girlfriend, their house.” Lucas rolled his eyes. 

They had arrived at the bar, which was nothing special but served cheap beer (the cheapest in Paris, according to Yann) and therefore drew a big student crowd every night. As it was still early on Saturday evening it was relatively quiet, and they sat down at a small table in the corner after they had ordered two bottles of Belgian beer at the counter. 

Lucas took the first swig and sighed.

“I'm so fed up with studying. I don't know how Manon does it, she's started to study for the bac like three months ago and is still super motivated. How is it going for you?”

“It’s alright, to be honest. I’m just bored to death by seeing the same faces every day. Not by you and the boys, don’t get me wrong - but I really want to experience something else, meet new people.”

“Manon said you have applied for prépa as well?”

“Yeah, I didn’t really think about it until Mme. Duranchier asked if I had thought about applying to ENS. She believes I have a chance of getting in.”

Lucas whistled. “ENS? Fuck, Yann, you’re crazy.”

“Yann laughed. “Yeah, I sure love a challenge. What about you? Have you never thought about doing prépa?” 

“I have, especially with Manon talking about it so often. But to be honest, I can’t imagine cramming for two years. And I doubt I’d get in, let alone pass the entry exam for the Grandes Ecoles. Anyway, I would never be able to afford the fees, so that’s that. One of the regular universities is fine for me, really. I’ll be lucky if I get an offer, though. Biology seems to be pretty popular and you know my marks in German are average at best.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something. I’ve heard that it’s not unlikely you get an offer in the second round even if you didn’t receive one in the first round.”

“Yeah, that would be good. I will be needing new friends now that you and Manon are going to do prépa – I guess you won’t have time for baking and FIFA nights anymore.”

“Did you know that Arthur has applied, too?”

Lucas let out a pained groan and covered his face with his palms. “God, turns out I have been surrounded by geniuses and never realized it.”

“Stop it, Lucas. You’re super smart, probably smarter than me. There just was a lot more shit you had to deal with. It’s so unfair that you had to go through all of that pretty much on your own, you know? Damn, I really would like to reform the entire school system so that students with problems can get all the support they need and have equal opportunities of getting into the good universities.”

“I so hope you get into ENS and become minister of education one day.”

“Start a revolution from the inside.”

“Let’s drink to that,” Lucas said and raised his glass. 

They had planned to leave after one beer, to be able to get up early on Sunday morning and to study, but still were at the bar two hours later, talking to each other and drinking beer. The place had filled up quickly with a student crowd, and they no longer had the table to themselves. 

A group of three girls and a boy, a little older than them, had squeezed themselves around the other end of the table, and eventually, as the way to the bar became more and more blocked with the evening crowd, they suggested taking turns going to the bar, so everyone would have to go less often. Yann and Lucas agreed, and soon started to chat to the four after Yann returned from the bar with the first round of drinks and passed them to everyone.

It turned out that two of them, Aurélie and Zarah, were in their first year of prépa, and Yann was finally able to bombard someone with his questions about it.

“Now, please be honest - is it as bad as everyone says?”

Aurélie laughed. “It’s definitely a lot worse than I imagined. At least when you never struggled in school, like I did. Suddenly I feel I’m super slow and dumb, and will never get everything done. But maybe it’s different for you. Did you have to study for good marks?”

“Depends, for some subjects, no. But in general, yes.” Yann shrugged.

“Then at least you might be used to a bigger workload. That was the worst for me. I never had to do much for school, and now I stay home most nights to cram, and still feel I need to do much more to keep up,” Zarah chimed in.

“I’ve always had that feeling, to be honest,” Yann confessed. “But maybe I’m just a bit lazy.”

“Yeah, but then he always ends up with better marks than everyone else. It’s so annoying.” Yann pretended to be hurt by Lucas’ remark and they all laughed. 

Then Aurélie turned towards Lucas: “Do you want to do prépa as well?” 

“No, I really don’t think so.”

“That’s good, because first of all Yann will want to hang out with people from outside of his class, so he doesn’t talk about it all the time. And secondly, you will be so happy you have decided against prépa,” Céline, the third girl added.

“That’s absolutely true,” Sofiane agreed. “No matter how stressed I feel about university, whenever I meet with these two I’m always sure that I have chosen the right path for me. I never wanted to spend the nights studying at my desk, give up dancing and my part-time job at the youth centre just to get into an elite university.” 

As the evening continued, Lucas and Yann learned that Sofiane was studying to be a teacher and Céline was training to be a physical therapist and wanted to start her own small practice. They all had gone to the same lycée in the outskirts of Paris and now tried to meet up about once a month.

“Sometimes Aurélie and Zarah can’t make it, then we send them videos of us partying.”

Zarah rolled her eyes. “They think it’s super funny, but it’s just annoying to receive videos of screaming drunken people. We spam our group chat with stupid prépa jokes and memes as an act of revenge.”

“Have you questioned staying in Paris?” Yann asked.

“Not really, I mean, for prépa Paris was almost the only place that made sense to me.”

“I did for a while,” Sofiane said. “I wanted to study in Britain, but then Brexit happened and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to continue my studies. So I thought I’d apply for uni here and maybe I’ll try and spend a year in Australia. The weather is better there anyway. But it was always Paris – I mean, no other city in France is as exciting to me as Paris. And I’m from one of the banlieues, so living in actual Paris already feels like living in a different city.”

“Do you still meet other people from school?”

Céline shook her head. “No, although almost everyone lives in Paris. But these three are the only people from school I still want to meet. Sometimes I accidentally bump into old classmates and make awkward small-talk for five minutes until I run out of things to say – afterwards, I’m always relieved I don’t have to spend time with them. But these three will never get rid of me.” Céline grinned and blew air kisses to her friends.

“What about your plans? Do you want to stay in Paris?” she asked Lucas.

“I’ve been thinking about going away for a long time because a fresh start somewhere could be exciting. But recently I’ve heard a lot of good arguments for staying here.” He winked at Yann.

Céline nodded. “As Sofiane said, Paris is such a big and exciting city, you certainly won’t get bored even if you grew up here. And it’s really good if some of your friends and family are not hundreds of kilometres away, especially when you’re a broke student…”

It was around two thirty o’clock in the morning when the barkeepers told them they wanted to close for the night. They were the last people at the bar, everyone else had long since moved on to clubs and parties and around them the chairs had already been put on the tables for cleaning. Sofiane had left a while ago so as not to miss his night bus home, but the rest of them stood in front of the bar for a while, continuing their conversation. Finally, when Aurélie yawned and Zarah noticed it, they decided it was time to say goodbye. 

“Would you like to hang out with us again next time? It was really nice meeting you!” Yann suggested.

“Yeah, sure! It would be great to see you again! We always meet here on the first Saturday each month.”

“Ah, well, maybe we’ll have to skip next month because of the bac, but in two months then?”

“Sure, at the latest!”

“Or maybe you would like to come to a vernissage a friend of mine has at the end of June. He’s an art student and is painting a mural with two people from art school.”

“Sounds great,” Céline said. “I bet there will be lots of mysterious, good-looking art school kids.”

“That’s my girl,” Yann grinned at her and gave her a fistbump. “I said the same thing just a few hours ago. I’ll be your wingman then.”

They parted ways in front of the bar. Aurélie, Zarah and Céline had to walk in a different direction where their car was parked. Zarah had explained to Yann and Lucas that as a Muslim she didn’t drink and therefore sometimes offered to be their designated driver when she was too lazy to take public transport. She offered Yann and Lucas a lift, but as they lived in opposite directions and the metro station was not far from the bar, they declined.

They walked down to the first level of the metro station together and stopped in front of the stairs leading down towards the line Lucas had to take.

“It was really cool to catch up with you today. We should do that again some time.”

“Same,” Lucas said.

They hugged each other and Lucas had already turned towards the stairs halfway when on an impulse he stopped moving and said: “Yann, wait - there is one more thing I wanted to tell you...”

Surprised by Lucas’ unexpected change of heart, Yann turned around and looked at him with renewed interest.

“OK?” 

“God, I don’t know how to say this, but…” Lucas exhaled deeply. “…the reason I’ve been acting weird and stressed was not just because I’m having a hard time with sleeping and school. There’s someone I like, and well, at first I didn’t want to talk about it. And finally it turned out the trouble wasn’t worth it because it’s all one-sided. So that has been quite shitty recently. I’m sorry I’ve been so focused on myself.”

A look of compassion came onto Yann’s face. He put his hand on Lucas’ shoulder and squeezed it. “I’m sorry, man. Who is it? Do I know her?”

This was it, then. The moment of truth. Lucas briefly closed his eyes, sent a silent prayer to he didn’t know what entity – gay Jesus maybe – and then, opening them again but avoiding looking at Yann, said: “Um, actually it is someone you know. But – it’s not a girl.”

Yann’s eyes widened with surprise, but otherwise it was impossible to read his face. 

“Oh.”

“Say something else, please?”

Yann raised his palms and shrugged. “What do you want me to say? So, um, if I know… him… who is it?”

“Can you guess?”

“I don’t know? Arthur? Me?” There was a slightly exasperated tone to Yann’s voice, although still no emotions were visible on his features.

“What? You? No, no. Nor Arthur.” Lucas shook his head vehemently. He suddenly became aware that his hands and feet were as cold as ice and that he seemed to be shivering although the air inside the metro station was warm and stuffy.

“Who is it then?,” Yann asked and sighed, which reminded Lucas of the arguments Yann sometimes had with Emma – the sighing meant “stop beating around the bush and just tell me before I lose my patience and say something I’ll regret”.

“It’s Eliott.”

“Eliott? Your yoga teacher Eliott?”

“Yeah.”

Yann was quiet for some time and Lucas became increasingly nervous. In a spur-of-the-moment decision he swore to himself not to let Yann off the hook – if he minded Lucas being in love with another boy, then he preferred finding it out now.

“Are you shocked? That it’s a guy, I mean?”

Yann raised his eyebrows. “Shocked? No. I’m just surprised, I guess, how little I know about what’s been going on in your life lately. I mean you met Eliott months ago.” He sounded hurt.

“I’m sorry, Yann, I know I’ve excluded you from my life – but I was so scared to tell you that I kept putting it off again and again.”

Yann looked at his shoes, trying to remove a chewing gum from the sole of his sneakers by rubbing it against the edge of the top stair as he continued speaking. “I mean, you’ve always liked to figure things out alone, but I still thought we could talk about everything and you would tell me if something important was going on. Looks like I was wrong. I guess this was the reason you wanted to leave Paris, so that you didn’t have to talk to us.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked at something behind Lucas’ back. This jaw was clenched.

“Yann, please, I know – as I just said, I’m really sorry I kept this to myself. Please don’t be upset.”

“Lucas, to make it clear, I really don’t give a fuck about whether you’re gay or straight. Right now I’m just disappointed by the fact that you thought you couldn’t talk to me. But anyway, it’s really late and I’m probably too drunk and tired to discuss everything. Can we talk about everything tomorrow?” He looked like he regretted his harsh words, but they still stung.

Lucas nodded as if in a trance, then turned around and walked down the stairs towards his metro line. If he had said one more word he would have burst into tears. He didn’t know what he had expected, but having Yann be mad at him because he hadn’t told him earlier certainly hadn’t been part of it. He felt misunderstood. Didn’t Yann see how hard it had been for him to come out to his best friend?

He arrived at the colloc in tears and full of anger and self-pity. Mika was wandering around the kitchen brushing his teeth when Lucas unlocked the door. He took one look at Lucas’ tear-stained cheeks and immediately dropped his toothbrush onto the counter. 

“Chatouna, come here. What’s the matter?” “I told my best friend I’m in love with Eliott and now he is mad at me.”

“What? The nerve of fucking straight guys, I swear to God…” Mika was in full protective mode and hugged Lucas. 

“He’s angry I kept it from him,” Lucas sobbed. “He doesn’t understand why I didn’t tell him earlier.”

Mika tousled Lucas’ hair. “Lucas, Yann is a really nice guy for a straight man, I’ll give him that. But unfortunately there are still a lot of things most straight people don’t get about being queer.”

“Fucking heteronormativity,” Lucas said and laughed while tears were streaming down his cheeks. "Heteronormativity" had become a catchphrase since he had learned the word from Mika. They used it in combination with profanities of increasing severity whenever they were fed up with the cluelessness of straight people. It was strange, but saying these words out loud worked almost like a spell which reassured him that not his sexuality was a problem, but the way other people assumed everyone was straight.

“Fucking heteronormativity, exactly.” Mika smiled at him affectionately. “You’re a really fast learner, I’m proud of you. And next Saturday I’ll take you and Philippe to the gay party at the association. You need to surround yourself with your people more.”


End file.
